


Films about Ghosts

by belial



Series: Films [2]
Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, BAMF Chris Pike, BAMF Uhura, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Humor, Interspecies Relationship(s), Klingon Awesomeness, Klingons are Actually Yentas, M/M, Mind Meld, No Nero, No Vulcans Harmed in the Making of this Fic, Orphan!Spock, Soul Bond, T'hy'la, Thief!Spock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-25
Updated: 2015-04-23
Packaged: 2018-03-19 14:43:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 30,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3613794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/belial/pseuds/belial
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>S'chn T'gai Spock died as a child when his Ambassador parents went off-world to visit a construction colony and a terrible accident devastated the planet.  Twenty years later, the crew of the <i>Enterprise</i> is assigned to seek out and detain a highly-trained crew of thieves led by a man known as Tam'a – the Ghost.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Complete and total AU from the First Reboot. No Nero, nothing. Baby!Spock never makes it to Starfleet, Vulcan isn’t destroyed, et cetera. Title taken from the Counting Crows album. Lots of hand-wavy science and technology.
> 
> I do not own the fandom, characters, etc. I make no profit from this

He is three today.

His parents tell him this, and he nods politely. His mother smiles more often. It is not an uncommon sight, and one he both loves and loathes equally. If he were inclined to voice these emotions, he thinks he might roll his eyes at the way she constantly touches him, fusses over him.

He declines his mother’s offer to carry him and instead forces himself along on less-than-steady legs. He must take two point four steps to those of the adults in front of him and he refuses to show weakness by being unable to keep their pace. The leader of the M’Nay (humanoid with their pale-yellow eyes and webbed fingertips) escorts them around the mining colony, gesturing at spires and tunnels on either side of the raised platform they walk along. Spock follows behind, fascinated by the tiny blossoms that flower along the edges of the metallic walkway, keeping them from sinking into the soft earth of the planet. He pokes at one such bloom, watching as the flower arches into his touch. He turns to show the phenomenon to his mother, and as he opens his mouth to speak he realizes the adults are approximately eighteen point seven meters ahead, too wrapped up in their own conversation to notice his halt.

Before he can catch up to them, a low trembling vibration shakes along the edges of the catwalk, sending him to his knees. He slides along the metal framework until he can wrap his arms around one of the thicker supporting beams. He hears his name shouted from ahead of him and he answers, but as the words leave his mouth, the 

_ground opens swallows gorges destroys_  
_screaming yelling crying people milling_  
_slams his head pain green blood spilling into his eyes_

_darkness_

When he regains consciousness, he finds himself prone on a rusted-out cot, alone. “Mother? Father?”

A tall human male approaches. “You’re awake! I wasn’t sure if you would emerge from your healing trance or not, child,” he replies in Standard.

“Where are we?” Spock demands. 

“There was an earthquake on L’wreth. The colony is gone. Only those of us lucky enough to get to space craft survived. And you, who one of my crew members picked up.”

“That cannot be possible,” Spock replies. He is three, but is not so easily fooled. “The facility was constructed so that it would be immune to such dangers with…”

The man laughed at him. “I don’t know where you got that from, but those damn colonists cut every corner in the construction of that facility. It wouldn’t have survived a rainstorm for long. Not to mention that all of the blast materials exploded under the force of that quake.”

He gestures toward a port window, and Spock presses his face to the glass and can see the smoking remnants of the planet below. He is

_frightened_  
_overwhelmed_  
_nervous_  
_so, so human right then_

“I am S'chn T'gai Spock, of Vulcan,” he announces, desperately working to push the panic, down. He thinks he has succeeded, until the man huffs out a laugh.

“Kid, you’re not going to be able to be that boy anymore, if you want to survive with us.”

Spock looks around, sees several hard- looking faces stare back at him. None look friendly or forgiving. “Who are you?” he asks, and for the first time, feels genuine fear due to his circumstances. 

“Names aren’t important here,” the man replies. “Look, you’re clever. I saw how you managed to survive where many others didn’t, which is why I grabbed you. I promise you this: stick with me, and by the time I’m done teaching you, you’ll never want for anything again.”

He grins at no-longer-Spock, who hesitantly smiles back.


	2. Twenty Years Later

**CHRISTOPHER PIKE**

Three weeks ago, Christopher Pike, Captain of the _USS Enterprise_ , had relayed an order from Starfleet to his crew: to find and arrest a wanted fugitive on behalf of the Edosian Empire and reclaim a priceless artifact in the process. Their quarry should’ve been easy to find. And yet today, Chris sits in his chair and stews at their complete lack of progress. “Anyone have an idea how they knew we were coming for them?” he asks the bridge at large.

"Eet should not have been powsible,” Chekov replies, scratching at the back of his neck. “Scanners suggest a sheep departed from Edosia at the pwecise date and time as recorded by the Empire’s High Council, with an eeon trail that led us here.” 

Chris gestures to the blank view screen in front of him. “The term ‘here’ is relative, Ensign. Other than a field of stars, what do we have around us?” 

“Nothing much, sir, except a small planetoid about four hundred light years away,” Marcus says, to his question. He turns his gaze to his Science Officer and she sighs. “There are several vessels within that location, but none that produce the same readings as the vessel we’ve been following. Based on all readings, the trail just… disappears. Right here.” 

“It’s almost like we’re chasing a ghost.” 

Thank you, Commander,” Chris says, and rolls his eyes at his First Officer. He’s more inclined to want to shake Jim, but refrains. “For that helpful contribution.” 

"They call this guy the Ghost for a reason, though. So maybe he had another way to get around our sensors. Impulse engines, perhaps? Some mechanism that interfered with the ion stream of a vessel? There’s a recently published paper about a new Andorian fuel that doesn’t leave a waste trail.” 

"It could also be that they have some sort of technology that eliminates the waste trail,” Marcus adds, warming to Jim Kirk’s suggestions. “From what data I’ve seen, the Romulans have also been developing an engine system that runs on recycled water instead of a fuel source, but it seems to be a few years away from completion.” 

"Unless they just vanished into thin air,” Chris says. He rubs a hand across his face. “Lieutenant Uhura, any transmissions on the long-range sensors?” 

"Nothing relevant, Captain,” she replies. “The planetoid itself is putting out a transmission, but it’s in regards to what seems to be advertisements.” 

“Advertisements?” 

"Yes,” she replies, and frowns. “The persons putting out the signal are calling it ‘The Restaurant at the End of the Universe’. It seems to be a… bar?” 

"Seriously? Douglas Adams?” 

Everyone turns to Chris, who feels incredibly old. Fortunately, his First-Officer and godson says, “He’s a Terran author from the twentieth century, wrote science fiction novels. They’re quirky and describe the destruction of Earth so aliens could build a better highway. The original story was called, ‘The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy’. I loved that book.” 

"Thank you, Commander.” 

"No problem, Captain.” 

They grin at each other. Chris feels blessed every day to be able to have a man he considers his kid on his ship. “So. Suggestions?” 

"We should check out the planetoid. Maybe Tam’a stopped there on his way to somewhere else. If nothing else, it would be helpful to search for additional information,” Uhura suggests. 

"Agreed,” Chris says. “Sulu, lay in a course.” 

"Yes, Captain. We’ve got less than ten minutes until arrival.” 

The time passes quickly; when they arrive at their destination, they find several ships circling the planet. “Lieutenant Marcus, scans of the planetoid, please?” 

"Oxygen-rich environment, sir,” she says, and wrinkles her nose. “Actually, Captain, it looks like the planetoid is more than what scanners first noted. There’s fresh and salt water, and a thriving organic environment. The planet seems to have some sort of shielding mechanism within it so that it looks uninteresting from a distance. Only upon arriving do the planet’s true resources show through.” 

"What about life forms?” 

"Nothing indigenous to the planet suggests danger.” 

"Right. Kirk, Lieutenant Uhura, with me; Sulu, you have the conn.” 

Kirk easily follows him into the Turbolift, Uhura close behind them. “All due respect Sir, but I think there’s a possibility that Tam’a might be on that planet.” 

"And why’s that?” 

"The ion trail led us here. Deliberately. If they knew we were following them, a remote outpost on the edge of neutral space would be the best place to ambush us. We could also be beaming onto a world where Tam’a is a resident, or frequent visitor.” 

"What would you suggest?” 

"Warp the _Enterprise_ out of range, and let’s take a shuttle to the planet’s surface,” Kirk replies. “The three of us could dress out of Starfleet uniform. It might encourage the locals to speak more freely. I know Edosia has already put a reward on Tam’a’s head, but if nothing else, the guy’s gotta know we’re after him by now. He doesn’t keep disappearing by luck alone.” 

Chris listens to his godson and realizes Jim’s point. When they step off the Turbolift and head to the transporter room, Chris comms the Bridge. “Change of plans, Mr. Sulu. Take us back to our original location.” 

"Sir?” 

"We’re going to utilize that shuttle we confiscated a couple months ago and get into that restaurant the old-fashioned way, it seems.” 

Two hours later, the three of them are dressed in civvies and walking into the supposed ‘Restaurant at the End of the Universe’. A blue, multi-limbed host seats them at a table near a window and offers them PADD-style menus. The bar area is packed with a variety of species and genders; any or none could be their target. “Wow.” 

Chris tears his gaze away from the bar to look at Jim. “What is it?” 

“The menu,” the First Officer replies. “Check it out. Maybe we should eat first?” 

When Chris drops his eyes to the menu, he’s surprised by the array of foods listed. Specialties from across the galaxy spool beneath his fingertips. “Anything in particular you want?” 

“I think that’s my line,” a deep, honey-tinged voice says. Immediately, the three of them turn to the man that’s come up quietly to their table. He’s tall, about six feet, dark hair, dark eyes, and pointed ears with a barbell piercing the right cartilage. He’s smiling widely at them. “Hi. I’m Spyder, I’m your server. What may I get you to drink?” 

“Andorian ale,” Jim says, and returns the cheeky grin. “Spyder, huh?” 

The waiter pushes thick black glasses further up his nose. “That’s me. What about you, gorgeous? The bartender makes a mean Cardassian Sunrise.” 

When Uhura nods, Spyder’s grins wider. “Actually, I meant you, sir,” he says, looking at Chris. 

Whatever expression he makes has both Jim and Uhura snickering. “Very funny, you two,” he says, mock-crossly. “For that, you can pay for your own meals.” 

“Aww,” Jim pouts. “Mean.” 

Chris is used to this; familiar with the sass that is James Tiberius Kirk. “Just for that, I think I’ll have that Cardassian Sunrise,” he replies. “Nyota?” 

“Cardassian Sunrise for me as well,” she says. 

“Great,” Spyder says, and turns, nearly tripping over his own two feet. “Oops. Maybe I should stop sampling them and just keep serving them.” 

Chris can’t help but smile at the way the boy’s cheeks blush a bright green. The waiter self-consciously runs a hand down his white button-down shirt and straightens his waist apron. “Be right back. Just FYI, the chef does amazing things to the U-hagna, which – since you’re human – sort of tastes like steak, from what I’ve heard.” 

“Thanks,” Chris says. Spyder nods and hustles back to the bar area, tripping over his own feet again on the way. 

“So he’s either related to the owner or sleeping with the chef,” Jim says, laughing. “Poor guy.” 

“Don’t make fun, he’s probably the best person to make inquiries with,” Uhura says. “And he’s adorable, so I bet people talk to him easily. He probably knows more than he thinks.” 

“What do you think he is? I’d say Vulcan by the ears, but I’ve never met a Vulcan that acted so non-Vulcany. Or had a pierced ear. Or that ass…” 

Chris enjoys kicking the other man under the table, watches as Uhura swats Jim in the back of the head. “The ears could be a recessive trait in his culture, you pig.” 

“Not like you didn’t notice it either,” he tells her. She sniffs at him but doesn’t deny it. 

Chris thinks, not for the first time, that the two of them would one day rule Starfleet if they would stop trying to one-up each other. He clears his throat. “The waiter seems a good start; after a meal, perhaps the bar area would be a good destination? I know you two are both more than capable of making friends.” 

They smile in tandem like sharks scenting blood. Chris is used to this; the way his two officers are able to use a combination of brains and lethal seduction techniques to get information from anyone. “Play nicely, children.” 

The clinking of glassware interrupts any further conversation. He watches their waiter set the tray on the edge of the table and gingerly pass the beverages around. “Are you going to order now or do you need a few more minutes?” 

“I’ll have the U-hagna, grilled,” Kirk says. 

“The Risian spice salad,” Uhura says. 

“I’ll try the U-hagna, grilled as well.” 

Spyder nods, drops his pencil on the floor, and then scoops it up again in black-gloved hands. He scribbles their order down and says, “It’ll be up soon. In the meantime, I hope you like your drinks!” 

Chris raises his glass to clink with his officers. “To finding what we’re looking for?” 

“Agreed,” Nyota replies, and takes a sip of her cocktail. 

It’s the last sight Chris remembers before the darkness takes him. 

**JAMES T. KIRK**

__He wakes, groaning, and feels his head to be sure it’s still on his neck. “Did anyone get the registry of that shuttlecraft?”_ _

__No one replies; he cracks open an eye to see he’s not… anywhere he recognizes. “Chris? Nyota?” he calls out, tentatively._ _

__“It’s just us here right now,” a voice responds._ _

__It’s a voice he recognizes, especially when his gaze lands upon a familiar-looking face. “Spyder?”_ _

__The full impact hits him; he’s sitting in a cell with their waiter; the dark-haired man’s trembling, huddled against the far wall. “Hey,” Jim says. “Are you okay?”_ _

__“Um, sure?”_ _

__Jim sits up and grimaces. “Shit, that’s unpleasant,” he says. “It feels like someone’s hammering in my skull.”_ _

__“I don’t have anything to give you to help it,” Spyder replies. He’s wide-eyed and staring at Jim as Jim lurches to his feet. If anything, he curls into a smaller ball. “Are you going to hurt me?”_ _

__“What? No,” Jim protests. “Why would you think that?”_ _

__“Because I got thrown into a cell for serving you drinks? Are you a criminal, or something?”_ _

__Jim flaps a hand at the other man. “No, I’m Starfleet,” he says. “I’m not here to hurt anybody. I promise, I’m not going to hurt you.”_ _

__“You’re Starfleet?”_ _

__Jim nods, rubbing at his face. “Yeah. We don’t hurt people.”_ _

__“Oh, I know that,” the other man replies, and a sharp, focused grin crosses his face. “But facial recognition software only’s good for so much. It’s much better to hear it in person. So I can be sure you’re the one I want.”_ _

__As Jim tries to make sense of Spyder’s words, the other man gets up and wraps a hand around Jim’s throat. Jim startles at the strength of the man in front of him. “What the hell?”_ _

__The waiter lifts Jim with a single hand, slams him into the bulkhead. The other hand goes to Spyder’s mouth, and he bites at the fingertips of the glove covering his hand, pulling the garment off. “Sorry about this,” he says._ _

__“What… are you… doing?”_ _

__Spyder’s hand comes free and he lines his fingers up alongside Jim’s face, and Jim instinctively knows that the man in front of him is a telepath, a freaking mind-reading…_ _

_____explosion of color and sound_  
_warmth_  
_heat_  
_God, he’s so hard, never been so aroused_

__Pictures flash through Jim’s mind, conversations with Pike and his mother and the dog he had at five and _Tam’a, find a ghost, living legend__ _

__And then Jim’s vision changes, he’s not sure how, but he’s no longer in his own head, he sees_ _

_____watching a planet burn_  
_new family_  
_laughing at Klingon jokes_  
_lonely, so lonely_  
_beautiful blue-eyes, sorry he’s one of them_

__Jim drops to the floor with a gasp; Spyder doesn’t look any better. They’re both shaking hard, panting, and Jim can’t help but snarl, “Did you get what you needed?”_ _

__But before the dark-haired Vulcan (for Jim’s certain he’s Vulcan now) can respond, a voice outside the cell says, “Tam? You okay?”_ _

__Spyder – shit, he’s _Tam’a_ \- turns toward the voice beyond the bars. “Yeah,” he croaks. “Just, bad feedback. I know what they’re here for.”_ _

__Jim shoves himself upright and starts to fall – but instead of landing on his face, he finds himself caught by _the man they’ve been hunting for weeks_. “Hey,” Tam’a says, steadying Jim on his feet. “Don’t go cracking your skull open, sit down.”_ _

__Jim would attempt to pull away, but Tam’a’s grasp is warm, and he unconsciously leans into the other man. “What’d you do to me?”_ _

__“Mind meld,” the criminal replies. “Sorry, I had to know what you wanted. Can you get your feet underneath you?”_ _

__“Uh, Tam…” the voice says._ _

__“Shut up,” Tam’a growls over his shoulder, and refocuses on Jim. “Come on, you can stand up straight, baby, yeah?”_ _

__Jim finds his footing and Tam’a grins at him. “I might not be Starfleet, but I promise we’re not here to hurt you, either. Okay? Your captain and Uhura are a few cells down from here, and neither of them have woken up yet, but they’re fine.”_ _

__“Fine’s a relative term.”_ _

__“No one’s going to hurt you or your crewmates, as long as you’re onboard my ship.”_ _

__“Why should I trust you?”_ _

__“Same reason I’m going to have to trust you, James Tiberius, when I return you and your crew to the _Enterprise_. We’ll make a fair exchange. It’ll be fine.”_ _

__“Shouldn’t trust you, you tricked me,” Jim says, and winces. “What was in that ale you served me?”_ _

__“Coma-inducing depressant mixed with something to lower your inhibitions. So feel free to speak about Starfleet’s secrets, we promise not to listen too hard.”_ _

__Jim realizes he’s being teased, and he tries very hard not to grin at the nerve of the man in front of him. “Funny.”_ _

__“Tam!”_ _

__Tam’a rolls his eyes and helps Jim over to a small cot. When Jim’s a little closer to horizontal, Tam’a releases him and heads towards the exit to the cell. “Hey, Tam’a?”_ _

__The ghost turns around. “Yeah?”_ _

__“Is your name really Spyder?”_ _

__The criminal snorts at him. “No, Jim.”_ _

__“Good,” Jim replies, as his eyes close. “It doesn’t suit you anyway.”_ _

__He isn’t sure if he dreams the soft fingers stroking his hair or not._ _

__**TAM’A __**__

___He gives one last pet to the soft blond head on the pillow, then tugs on his gloves and heads out of the cell, where Allie waits for him. “What the fuck was that?” she hisses, giving him a look that should burn him alive. “Don’t get sweet on him, idiot.”_ _ _

___He shakes his head, rests his forehead against hers. “I think I just fucked up badly,” he confesses. “I think… I think I just created a bond with him, sort of. Somehow.”_ _ _

___She shrieks out a wordless, angry sound, grabs him by the shoulders and shakes him. “How?”_ _ _

___“His mind. It was so beautiful, and the further I delved into his psyche, the less I realized he drifted across into mine.”_ _ _

___“But… but that’s never happened before, you’ve done this hundreds of times!”_ _ _

___“I’ve never liked a mind like that before,” he says, and continues leaning against her because his knees still feel like they could wander away without the rest of his body. “Fuck. I want to keep him.”_ _ _

___“He’s Starfleet,” she says. “They’re not going to just look the other way while you kidnap one of their officers. We’re already on their shit list, but that would be asking for execution.”_ _ _

___“I know. And I gave him my word, to let them go.”_ _ _

___“I heard you. What do we do to get them off our trail? The Edosians aren’t going to stop, and the next group we come across might not be so civil in their attempts to track us down and bring us in. Unless you want to go back to Kronos? We could stay there, you know Drex still has a lot of friends who would love to get your strategic mind…”_ _ _

___“I’m not going to Kronos,” he says. He finally feels strong enough to pull away from her, and they walk together to the bridge. “I know the Empire’s absolutely on our side, but I can’t abandon this search. I’m never going to know what happened on L’wreth if I don’t keep investigating!”_ _ _

___“Spock,” she says, and he freezes. It’s spoken so quietly that he’s not even sure she said his name, until she repeats it. “Spock. Tam’a. Listen to me, you can’t…”_ _ _

___“I have to,” he says, through gritted teeth. “What do I do otherwise? Go back to a Vulcan planet that wouldn’t take me? Come on, do you remember what happened when we ‘visited’ Vulcan? I was stared at like a fucking pariah the minute I walked down the cargo ramp.”’_ _ _

____He and Allie had both been both twelve, holding hands as the Captain ordered them to stretch their legs, wanted to replenish supplies, and Spock had been overwhelmed by the severe looks and disgust at their fingers intertwined. And then he’d called the black-skinned Captain ‘Dad’ and the violent wave of non-emotion had dropped him to his knees…_ _ _ _

___Eleven years later and he can feel it as sharply as the day it had happened. “I can’t be a fucking robot like they are,” he finishes. “I want to know who I am. Who I was, before my parents lost me. I dream of my mother’s face and until I can find all the pieces of the puzzle I won’t know anything.”_ _ _

___“The Klingons would see you leading their armies,” she says. “Not searching the entire universe for the missing history of L’wreth.”_ _ _

___“And Starfleet would see me in a cage. Vulcan would see me locked away to be rehabilitated from all of my stupid emotions. None of that sounds good to me.”_ _ _

___She nods. “I’ve got your back, brother. Just be careful, all right? You’re not invincible.”_ _ _

___Spock frowns. “I should go and speak to their captain. I’ve ignored him in favor of Jim, but I should speak to him.”_ _ _

___“You went after the easiest target. It was a good plan. Don’t go second-guessing yourself just because it didn’t work exactly as you wanted.”_ _ _

___Spock groans. “I have no idea what I’m supposed to do with him now.”_ _ _

___The green-eyed redhead next to him laughs. “Do you need me to give you a list? Because wow, that boy is handsome…”_ _ _

___Her laughter follows him down the hallway as he stalks from the bridge toward the cells again._ _ _


	3. First Date

**NYOTA UHURA**

She and Pike sit side-by-side in the cell, both wrapped up in a soft blanket supplied by the furious Klingon on the other side of the bars. Uhura’s already tried talking to him in three dialects, but other than acknowledging her shivering by throwing a blanket through the bars, he’s completely ignored her.

“Any sign of other guards?” Pike whispers to her.

“No,” she replies. “No sign of anyone else, period. Including Kirk.”

Pike’s expression goes flatter, if possible. “I swear, if they hurt either of you, I will kill them myself.”

She squeezes his hand for moral support. Suddenly, noise in the hallway diverts their attention. Uhura finds her mouth dropping open as Spyder, their server, walks up to the Klingon and asks, “Any problems with our guests?”

The server speaks the Klingon dialect perfectly.

The Klingon doesn’t seem surprised by the flawless pronunciation; he shrugs, replies, “The female feels the temperature more acutely than the male.”

Spyder quickly takes in the blanket and the way they’re huddled together and grins. He nudges the Klingon in the ribs and says, “You’re an honorable man, T. Rex.”

The Klingon doesn’t bat an eye at the nickname – and Uhura has no doubts it’s a nickname – which means they not only know each other, but are somehow working together, and that potentially makes Spyder, “Tam’a?”

“I knew you’d figure it out, Nyota,” Tam’a replies, and grins at her. “Jim believes you to be at least as smart as he is.”

And there’s no way for Tam’a to know her first name without Jim telling, but, “Why would Jim tell you anything?”

Tam’a wiggles his fingers at her. “It wasn’t exactly his choice.”

“Where is he?” Pike snaps, losing patience with the banter. “What have you done to him? If you’ve harmed an Officer of the Federation, we’ll…”

“Hey, I’ve done nothing you wouldn’t have done to me if our situations would’ve been reversed,” Tam’a retorts. “He’s three cells down sleeping. I was coming to ask you if you wanted to see him, asshole.”

The curse shuts Pike up, and he and Tam’a end up blinking at each other. Tam’a looks flabbergasted that those particular words left his mouth in that order, and Uhura says, “You sound like Jim.”

The criminal blushes, further confusing any impressions she’d made of him. “I think I’ve got some of his mannerisms scrambled up with mine,” he says, and fusses with his glasses. “Shit, um. Did you two want to see him? I already told him I would be letting the three of you go, I just needed to be sure you were who you said you were.”

“Why would you let us go?” Pike asks, before Uhura can voice the words. 

“I don’t want trouble with Starfleet,” he says. “I didn’t take anything from Edosia that can’t be easily returned, but right now _I need it_ and they wouldn’t acknowledge any of my _inquiries to study it_. I swear it’s perfectly safe and unharmed and I’ll be glad to return it when I’m done with it.”

“You think the Shield of R’na is yours to borrow?”

“Look, have you seen it?” Tam’a asks. “Like, in person. Do you even know what it is?”

“It’s a shield made of a material precious to the Edosian people,” Pike says.

“It’s a piece of fucking sheet metal,” Tam’a replies, rolling his eyes. “It was blasted into orbit during the explosion on a planet called L’wreth, part of an access panel door, and it drifted through space until it crash-landed on Edosia, where the crazy natives thought it was a gift from their gods. It’s bullshit space scrap, and they wouldn’t even let me look at it.”

Uhura’s a genius in her own rights, but she doesn’t need to use any of her higher powers of deduction to realize this is about something much more than space scrap. “You wanted an access door? Why?”

“None of your fucking business,” he replies. To the Klingon, he says, “Let them go see their crewman. And then get them to the transporter. Okay?”

The Klingon nods, and Tam’a stalks off without another word to either of his prisoners. 

“We need to find out everything possible about L’wreth,” Pike says, reading her mind. “Other than the fact that the planet was destroyed in a mining accident.”

“Agreed.”

Meanwhile, the Klingon is opening the door. Uhura nudges Pike in the ribs, urges him to get up. “Go see your boy,” she says, when Pike makes a protesting sound. “Make sure he’s all right. I’ll stay here with the blanket.”

Pike gets to his feet and follows the Klingon out of the cell. She sits quietly under the blanket until the Klingon returns without Pike.

“Where’s my Captain, T. Rex?” she asks in Klingon.

The Klingon shoots her a lethal glare. “I am Drex of the House of Kruge to you, female,” he snarls. “Hold your tongue with such familiarities or I shall remove it!”

Uhura inclines her head, studies him. “My apologies, Drex of the House of Kruge. I meant no disrespect to your House; I had no name to call you until Tam’a offered one.”

The dark-skinned warrior grumbles at her but makes no other sound. “You are loyal to Tam’a?” she asks, and holds up her hands when he eyes her suspiciously. “Forgive me; I am a student of xenolinguistics and I find the interaction between a Klingon warrior and a Vulcan enticing. You have my word that I’ll ask no more questions than the two I’ve already posed.”

“Tam’a is honored amongst my people,” he finally replies. “And your Captain is with your crewman.”

“Thank you,” she says, and doesn’t press him for any further answers even though his response creates a thousand questions. 

“Damn it, Tam’a,” she mutters. “Who the hell are you really?” 

**ALLISON EARHARTT**

Spock’s a damn mess by the time he gets back to the bridge. She’s torn between wanting to kick her brother’s ass, flick one of his oversensitive green ears, or hug him. “You okay?”

“We’ve got to find the _Enterprise_ ,” he says in lieu of an answer. “Tiger, can you track the vessel?”

“Blindfolded and with both arms tied behind my back,” the tiny Asian woman replies. Hu Tso – Tiger – is the best navigator and helmsman Allie’s ever met. “The ship’s still within a thousand lightyears of M’nae’s restaurant. Starfleet Officers have already swarmed the bar in search of their Captain.”

“Shit,” Spock replies. “ M’nae’s going to beat me to death barehanded for bringing Starfleet to her door… But have you caught any transmissions from the _Enterprise_ to other ‘Fleet vessels?”

“Two,” Tiger replies. “If we’re going to deliver them back, we’ve got about half an hour to get it done.”

“Right. Allie, redirect all power to forward shields. Tiger, bring us around to the Enterprise and drop cloaking shields. Hail them on all channels and open a broadcast line.”

Spock gracelessly slumps into the Captain’s chair and waits; Allie does as directed and watches the _Amanda’s_ cloaking mechanisms disengage. Thank gods for the power to the shields, because the _Enterprise_ is firing on them within moments. “Hey!” Spock shouts. “I’m trying to return your fucking crew, stop firing at us, you morons!”

All attacks stop. Allie does a quick scan of the ship, says, “No damage sustained. Shields holding.”

Suddenly, Tiger says, “Incoming transmission,” and a face fills their view screen. A handsome-looking man stands before them, looking furious. “Klingon D-4 warbird, this is Acting Captain Sulu of the _USS Enterprise_. Identify yourselves.”

“I’m the guy with your captain and stuff,” Spock says, waving a hand listlessly. He slouches further and she bites her lip to keep from laughing. Her brother’s a menace and laying it on thick. “Dude, seriously, is there some rule in Starfleet that says you have to be smoking hot to command a star ship? Because damn, you’re nice to look at.”

Acting Captain Sulu gives her brother a look that she’s seen millions of times before; intense confusion and immediate dislike. “What have you done with my Captain and Command Crew?”

“They’re guests in our holding cells but I’m totes fine on returning them. No harm, no foul.”

“I think you’ll find that kidnapping Starfleet officers isn’t so simple.”

“Dude, I didn’t know they were Starfleet at the time,” Spock says, eyes wide and innocent. “Which is why I’m returning them. They looked like fucking pirates, and they were chasing me. What else could I have done? Now I know that you’re not enemies, I’m happy to give them back.”

The Asian man glares at Spock and Allie shivers. “If you dare attack while our shields are down…”

“Would it be better for me to lower shields first? Allie, take care of that. I want the _Enterprise_ to know they’re amongst friends here.”

Allie gives him a dark look, but obeys the directive; she can detect the shock on Sulu’s face. “Now, if you’re ready to lower your shields, I’m good to beam them back.”

“Chekov,” Sulu says, and the _Enterprise’s_ shields drop. Spock yawns, scratches his nose, and hits the transporter beam to deliver the three captives over to the _Enterprise_. 

“All good on your end?” Spock asks. Then, he mutes the transmission. “Allie, reengage shields.”

Allie nods, and Spock unmutes the conversation. It takes a minute or two, but suddenly they hear, “Captain on the bridge” and the three officers from their hold appear. “Captain Pike, good to see you on your own bridge,” Spock says, and yawns again. “It was really nice to meet all of you, and we’re gonna have to part ways now.”

“Like hell,” the Captain replies. “Tam’a, under Starfleet General Order 3, you are under arrest for violating the statutes, laws, ordinances, and rules of governance currently in effect within the jurisdiction of a Federation member planet; furthermore, you’re in violation of General Order 8, which is bringing a hostile vessel into Federation Space. You are to immediately surrender yourself and your crew.”

“Uh. No? How about no, I like that as a response. Because I could’ve killed you like a hundred times already, but I don’t like innocent blood on my hands.”

“You started off by poisoning us and then forcing me into a mind meld,” says the pretty blond boy, from his vantage point behind the captain. “That’s not exactly starting this relationship out on a great foot.”

“You’re going to be bitter about that forever, aren’t you,” Spock sighs, and for whatever reason – this is what cuts the tension between the two ships. Allie can’t hold in her giggles anymore and she claps a hand over her mouth, but it’s too late. 

Those giggles make her brother grin; and moments later, the blond bombshell’s also laughing. “Tam, you should be honest with me,” the blond says. “Because I know as well as you do that your mind meld didn’t go just the one way.”

Spock freezes, laughter dying on his lips. “That’s not…”

“Spock.”

And oh, shit.

**SPOCK – FORMERLY KNOWN AS TAM’A**

He watches the muscles move in Jim’s face, and the Starfleet officer smiles at him. “It took me a little while to sort through all of the things I saw in your head,” Jim says, softly. “And then, when I was able to talk to Chris and Nyota, we started putting the pieces together as to who you were. Because I remember reading about L’wreth in school as a kid, about the mining camp there that caused the whole planet to die.”

“Jim,” he breathes. “Stop.”

“You were one of the survivors. Tam’a, the Ghost, a Vulcan name for a missing Vulcan child, right?”

Spock slams a hand down, disconnecting the viewer. “Shields at 100%, cloaking up, Allie get us out of here.”

“But…”

“Now!”

The D-4 drops from view and Allie takes them racing across the stars. Spock, meanwhile, is hyperventilating in his seat. “Tiger, can you take the controls?” he asks, and shoots out of his chair. When he gets to the lift, he runs directly into Drex’s well-muscled chest. “Fuck,” he says.

The Klingon, in a very uncharacteristic move, opens his arms and draws the Vulcan boy into them. “Be at ease, Tam’a,” he says. “For you are amongst those who would end worlds for you.”

Spock feels his well-constructed walls shake apart. “It was supposed to be easy,” he says, forcing down the well of unresolved tears. “Grab the hatch, get out into the far ends of the neutral zone, and examine the data. The Federation wasn’t supposed to get involved!” 

“If not for this theft, then it would’ve been involved for the next one, or the one after that,” Drex replies. “This is why the Empire would see you return to Kronos. So that you may find some sort of peace there, with one who would be t'hy'la to you.”

“I hate that you know more of my culture and history than I do,” Spock replies, snuffling closer to the older man. Drex doesn’t comment. “But this is why I still hunt for my past. Because I only know what I’ve been told about Vulcans in general, not because I know how to find out what happened to my parents.”

“Is your life worth the knowledge? I am yours as long as you want me, Tam’a. Your friend and shield brother in all battles. But I would see you stop this fight before it consumed you. You are not Klingon and this war within yourself is not your way.”

“It’s not like I could just give the hatch back to the Edosians and all would be forgiven.”

“But it would give you reason to see the human First Officer again.” Drex gathers Spock up and drags him towards the crew’s quarters. “But enough; you must rest after your ordeal with the mind meld. You still shake from the effort.”

“He knows all of me now.”

“Yes,” Drex replies. “But for once, Tam’a – is it such a bad thing?”

Drex’s words haunt him as he tries to sleep. Allie and Tiger still have the bridge, are still barreling them into the blackest corners of space to avoid the _Enterprise_ and her crew. To avoid the one he knows could easily be his soulmate, if given half the chance.

How had Jim organized all of Spock’s memories so quickly? How had he shuffled the data to be able to pinpoint the exact quest Spock was on? Spock had seen the intelligence behind those blue eyes in the meld, but nothing prepared him for hearing his true name from Jim’s lips, in front of all of those witnesses.

Would he be hunted by Starfleet and Vulcan as well? The long-lost son of an Ambassador, supposedly perished on a mining colony twenty years prior, now a wanted fugitive by a number of planetary councils…

_You think very loudly._

Spock shoots to his feet, gasping for air. His head snaps side-to-side, but no one intrudes in his quarters. “What,” he says, and stops. 

_Jim?_ he thinks, pushing at the tiny link between his mind and…

_Hi Spock._

“Fuck,” Spock swears. “Fucking fuck.” 

_Your mouth’s even dirtier than mine._

Spock swallows a semi-hysterical sob. _My dad told me that all the time._

_The ambassador?_

_No, the man who later raised me._

_I’m sorry._

_What do you want from me?_

_I want you to tell me the whole story, face-to-face, of why you stole the Shield of R’na from the Edosians._

_Is that all?_

_For starters._

_What else would you want from me?_

_Everything. You’re not the only one who was overwhelmed by what you saw,_ Jim thinks back, and then the link goes quiet. 

_I don’t want to go to prison,_ Spock sends to Jim, after the silence stretches. _I’m not – this isn’t about me taking a damn hatch door from Edosia, not really._

_Then what is it really?_

Spock bites his lip, unsure how to proceed. _I know you’ve seen the facts I’ve gathered so far._

_I want to hear you say it. Because it’s more than possible you’re right. Or close to being correct._

_I think the M’Nay were responsible for the explosions that killed a planet, not only because they were sloppy builders and cut corners, but because someone intentionally set blast charges within the mines themselves. But I need proof, and this hatch could do it. If not, then I keep searching until I find out what happened._

_But why would the M’Nay want to sabotage their own planet?_

_It wasn’t their home planet – they’ve got another location in the Arlenz sector of space, this was just a mining planet, and the culture’s been experiencing population control issues for years. If they were to kill the third of the population inhabiting L’wreth, then the issue would’ve been solved._

_That’s why I see memories of mining reports in your head?_

_Paperwork isn’t enough as proof. I’m trying to find something more substantial._

_Shit._

_Exactly. I’m not a thief because it’s fun, Jim. I’m trying to solve a murder._

_Then let us help!_

_I can’t. If Starfleet gets involved in this, any witnesses are going to be killed, evidence will be buried, and those responsible will go to ground._

_Wouldn’t it be better for us to try together, than for you to get killed doing it on your own? What about your sister, your crew?_

_Don’t guilt me._

_Please, Spock. You asked me to trust you. Trust me back._

And wasn’t that the crux of the matter right there…


	4. Walk the Line

**PAVEL CHEKOV**

When First Officer Kirk comes barreling onto the bridge, Pavel doesn’t have the chance to announce him. Kirk says, “They’re in the Laurentian system.”

“Commander on zee bridge!”

Pike and Kirk both look at him and he blushes shyly. “Eez part of my job, da?”

“Right, Ensign,” the Captain replies. “Now, who’s in the Laurentian system?”

“Spock and his crew.”

After a moment of tense silence, Pike says, “I’m really interested to know how you learned that, Commander.”

“I might’ve maybe poked at the bond I have with him? And talked to him.”

“The bond,” the Captain states flatly. “The bond I told you – ordered you – not to engage until we had received word from the Vulcan High Council on how we could use such a thing to our advantage?”

“It was unintentional,” Kirk interrupts, before Pike can get a full rant going. Pavel watches and holds his breath waiting for the conversation to proceed. “He started projecting really loudly and I couldn’t not say something.”

“And he just happened to tell you everything we needed to know?”

“Actually… yes?”

Kirk gives the bridge a run-down of the conversation he held with Tam’a and Pavel can’t help but be fascinated. “So, he reelly theenks it vas savotage?”

“Yes,” Kirk says. “Captain… Sir, if he indeed has documentation that proves the M’Nay guilty of murdering their countrymen, do we not have the responsibility of seeing those responsible brought to justice? They are, after all, also a Federation planet.”

“And what about your new friend, Commander? And the Edosian people?”

“We explain to them why the hatch… err, Shield of R’na was needed and return it. Surely they would understand – we’ve both talked to Minister Laa, he’s neither heartless nor ignorant.”

Pavel watches the Captain rub his eyes. “And Tam’a? Or I suppose I should call him Spock, since that is his name.”

“S'chn T'gai Spock is actually his name, Captain,” Lieutenant Uhura states. She looks up from her PADD. “I just received a communication from Vulcan, sir. I had inquired as to whether or not they lost anyone during the destruction of L’wreth. An Ambassador Sarek was on the planet, along with his human wife Dr. Amanda Grayson, and their three-year-old son S'chn T'gai Spock. They thought them all lost to the planet’s demise.”

“And here we are years later, and the lost son of Vulcan has somehow become one of the most wanted criminals in the Federation? Is Vulcan laying claim to him, by any chance?”

“They want him to be brought to Vulcan, Captain. But they have no idea that he’s been brought up without any sense of Vulcan tradition. They’d be in for a huge shock.”

“Are they avare he performed a mind meld against Meester Kirk’s vill? Zat is considered a swevere crime on Vulcan,” Chekov says, butting into the conversation as politely as possible under the circumstances. “If vee are to help dis Meester Spock solve dees crime, den vee cannot involve zee Vulcans yet or vee vill get him killed.” 

“Because this needed to be more complicated,” Captain Pike says, sighing. “So we solve the mystery of L’wreth with Spock’s assistance, making him happy; return the Shield of R’na to the Edosian, making them happy; help Spock elude the Vulcan High Council, making them unhappy. Or, we give Spock to the Vulcan High Council, making them happy.”

“But that would lead to war between Vulcan and the Klingon Empire,” Lieutenant Uhura says, quickly seconded by Commander Kirk. “Because one of Spock’s crew is Klingon, and while we were in their ship, he mentioned to me that Tam’a is held within high regards throughout the Klingon Empire.”

“For what?” Pike asks, incredulously. “The Klingons hate everyone who isn’t Klingon!”

“Except Tam’a, who risked his own life to save the Emperor’s daughter from abduction and death,” Commander Kirk says. “His adopted father died and Spock managed to eliminate a threat with the help of a small crew of pirates. I saw it, in his head.”

“Let me get this straight: the Klingon Empire as a whole loves Tam’a, and _that’s_ why he travels in a D-4 warbird?”

“I believe the ship was a gift.”

Pavel boggles at the idea of anyone being a favorite person or species of the Klingon Empire. “Then even if vee arrest him, vee start var with the Klingon Empire.”

“Essentially, yes,” Kirk says, and turns to the Captain. “Our best bet is to find him, help him, and then try to negotiate with him to find a way to make everyone happy.”

“Well, Sir, dat should vee easy.”

When the entire bridge looks at Pavel, he blushes bright red. “Eef you complete zee bond, den he vill be your husband; dat would grant him immunities from prosecution by other planets, da, and would therefore vee handled within Starfleet? And, in dat case, he could geeve up his vays and perhaps be geeven a lesser sentence for hiz crimes?”

“I bet we could pull off this husband thing and investigate, and then dissolve the bond later,” Commander Kirk says, after a few moments of silence. “Chekov, you’re a genius.”

“Vell, yes,” Pavel beams. “Ees how I got on Flagship!”

He’s not sure why that statement causes uproarious laughter on the bridge, but it’s all right. At least for once they’re not ignoring him because he’s too young.

“That was kind of awesome, Chekov,” Lieutenant Sulu says from his left.

“Eet’s fine to say Pavel, or Pasha,” Pavel offers, and is delighted when the Navigator gives him a thumbs-up.

“Mr. Sulu, please set a course,” Captain Pike says.

“For the Laurentian System, sir?”

“Yes, Mr. Sulu.”

“We have a course laid out Sir, that’ll take approximately seven hours to reach. That D-4 moves like nothing I’ve seen, Sir.”

“They’ve modified it,” Kirk responds. “That warbird not only has advanced warp capabilities, but reinforced shielding, along with the ability to run the whole vessel straight from the bridge with minimal crew. Spock, Tam’a, whatever you call him, he’s a damn genius.”

“That probably explains some of the attraction,” Uhura mutters, loudly enough for those sitting nearby to overhear. “I guess we’ll have to keep the newlyweds occupied and away from each other for everyone else’s sake.”

Pavel falls apart laughing at the look of horror on the First Officer’s face.

**DREX, OF THE HOUSE OF KRUGE**

“You want to what,” Tiger growls, furiously, and Drex cannot blame the human female in the least. What Tam’a has suggested has put them all on edge and is beyond the height of dishonor in his eyes.

“I’m serious,” Tam’a replies. “When they get here, I want you to transport me and the hatch door to the _Enterprise_ and then I want you to get the hell out of here.”

“You ask us to abandon you, as our leader and our kin, to our enemy, and retreat without you?” Drex cannot help but snarl. “You would shame us all with such a request!”

Tam’a at least has the grace to wince. “Do you think I make this request lightly?” he snaps. “They’re not going to pay a fucking bit of attention to anything that comes out of my mouth with a fully-armed D-4 parked next to them! I need them to listen!”

“And what gives you the impression they won’t leave the area and head towards the nearest prison planet with you in the brig? Or, even better, bring you back to Edosia, where you can be executed?” Allison asks. “How can you think this is in any way a good idea?”

“Because I’m going to be on that ship next to my bonded,” Tam’a mumbles. “And he’s not going to let anyone hurt me.”

Drex doesn’t shock easily, but he feels his lungs pause at the phrase. “Explain,” he demands, but Allison cuts him off with, “You’re going to complete the bond?”

Tam’a gives them all a defeated look. “It’s not a bad plan,” he says. “And Jim’s agreed to the idea.”

“I still do not understand,” Drex snarls.

“Tam’a accidentally bonded to the blond cutie when he did a mind meld,” Allison says. “And if they complete the bond…”

“You will do no such thing!”

Allison and Tam’a both glare at him as one. “I don’t think you get to decide that for me,” Tam’a glowers, and Drex would be worried if he didn’t know the Vulcan was, at heart, a pacifist. “I think I’m an adult and get to make my own decisions.”

“You’re barely twenty-three!” Hu cries.

“And, in traditional Vulcan custom, I should’ve been bonded to someone at like six,” Tam’a argues. “Come on, this isn’t the worst plan ever! If I can search for answers under the protection of both a Federation Starship and with support from the Klingon Empire, this could be all kinds of successful!”

“Except there is not a way to know whether or not the human would keep his word,” Drex replies. Then, he adds, “The blond human has not proved himself to be honorable as Allison and Hu have.”

Both females look a little less hostile at his declaration; Drex makes a mental note to sleep with extra knives anyway. “I do not say this as insult, but as fact.”

“As much as I hate to agree with anything Drex says against humanity, he’s not wrong,” Hu adds. “Your boytoy might have the best intentions, but he’s got a senior officer and the Admiralty to answer to.”

“I’ve seen his mind; there was no lie.”

“But even if he’s a good guy, he might not work with good guys. Why are you so willing to throw away your freedom for this?”

Tam’a doesn’t respond at once; Drex watches as emotions struggle across his face. The Klingon realizes, “Your blood calls to him as mate.”

Tam’a’s eyes snap upward, green flush dancing beneath his cheeks, and his mouth drops open. “T. Rex…”

“I am correct,” Drex replies, smugly. “You do not wish for this bond to be anything but permanent.”

“Wow, just when I thought my baby brother couldn’t get any dumber…”

Tam’a’s face twists into an unpleasant grimace. “I’m not dumb. It’s not like I can help my freaky biology!”

“It is not, as you say, ‘freaky’; your biology is perfectly normal for a Vulcan. If the human calls to you as mate and is receptive to returning your affection, then you should be able to bring him to _your_ ship and investigate. That way you can be rid of the Federation vessel,” Drex points out. Really. Even small Klingon children understand the basic principles of warfare.

“”Nicely suggested, T. Rex,” Allison says, grinning. “See? A great plan instead of sending you over to the _Enterprise_ to be taken away for good.”

“I don’t know if he’s going to want to complete an unbreakable bond. Nor do I know if the Federation would be so willing to help if I wasn’t aboard their flagship. I’m not going to miss out on this opportunity to determine what happened to my parents, even if it means a little discomfort for me personally in the meantime.”

“It’s not discomfort if they arrest you, it could be your life,” Hu objects. “Also, they don’t have any capabilities of cloaking or hiding if things go badly! What happens if the Romulans find out you’re on a Federation vessel? You could start an interplanetary war.”

“I’m not going to bump into any Romulans while onboard the _Enterprise_ ,” Tam’a argues. “And even if I did, it’s not like they would know I’m Tam’a. I would absolutely answer to a code name instead.”

“You mean like Spyder?”

“I was thinking Spencer this time, or Spahn.”

“I’ve always liked you as a Spencer,” Allison says. “Or a Zach. You could be a Zach. I had an ex-boyfriend Zach, do you remember him?”

“He was a douchebag who forced us to eat dried ant-like creatures for protein. Seriously, ants. Don’t remind me about your evil ex.”

“If we could return to the point,” Hu and Drex growl at the siblings. Drex thinks the tiny human is getting better at her annoyed expressions. “We aren’t leaving you.”

“That’s an order,” Tam’a replies. “And I don’t care if you don’t want to take orders from me, I mean it. I want you guys as far away from the _Enterprise_ as possible. Do you really want to go to prison, if I can’t make this work on my own?”

“That’s what family does, Tam,” Hu replies. “We stick together.”

“Yeah, well, if the Federation sinks its claws into Drex, they’ll never let him go,” Tam’a says. “And you’ll both probably be sent back to Earth to be split up and put into penal institutions. And I’ll never find any of you again. Now if that sounds okay with you, fine, but it’s not okay with me. Besides, how am I supposed to get anything done if I’m spending all my time worried about you lot?”

“It is a risk you must take in order for us to be satisfied that no harm will come to you. Are you the only one allowed to worry, Tam’a?”

“That’s not fair…”

“The enemy of my enemy is the enemy I'll kill last,” Drex says, deciding an Old Klingon proverb would be appropriate. “If you are to forge an alliance with the Federation, in order to find out the truth of those guilty of the deaths of your parents, then I would stand with you and my enemy until your task is done.”

“If I can find a way to keep Jim, you’re not allowed to kill him first, last, or ever,” Tam’a says, and scrubs a hand across his own face. “But I won’t be able to find out if they’re enemies to me or not if I don’t go to the _Enterprise_ and try this out. Without my babysitters.”

“Fine! Go. But if you die, I’m going to kill your dumb ass,” Allison snaps, and stalks out of the mess.

“What she said,” Hu adds, and also departs.

Tam’a looks at Drex, who shrugs. “I would not think to disagree with either of them,” the Klingon says.

“I kind of hate you all.”

“And we will have your back when you need us, either way. We will abide by your wishes, Tam’a. But we do not have to like it.”

The Vulcan thief rolls his eyes, but looks secretly pleased nonetheless. Drex considers his point made, and heads to the armory.

He’s not sleeping the night without more weapons.

**CHRISTOPHER PIKE**

When the beams of the transporter dissipate, Chris watches as his security team hesitates to draw their weapons. And hell – he almost understands why. Tam’a – Spock, if what Jim says is true – has the Shield of R’na propped up against his leg, and in his hands he’s clutching a well-worn rucksack. Everything from the way he stands to the way he tilts his head screams, “Don’t look at me, I’m innocent!” in flashing print.

He’s dressed differently than last time; still in black pants, but with a grey pullover shirt that looks soft to the touch. The thick black glasses are perched on his nose, and he touches them awkwardly. “Uh, hi?”

“Nice to see you again,” Chris says, and watches the Vulcan cringe. “Welcome to the _Enterprise_.”

“Thank you, Captain,” Tam’a replies. He bends down and picks up the Shield of R’na. “Hello, Lieutenant Uhura, Commander Kirk. You all requested this?”

A hundred different answers fly through Chris’ mind, but he settles on a thank you and takes the Shield from Tam’a’s hands. “We appreciate your immediate surrender of the Edosian’s property.”

“You can step down from the transporter pad,” Jim says, and Chris shoots him a stern glare. His godson offers a half-hearted grin. “Glad you’re here.”

“Me, too,” the Vulcan replies. “Even though that sounds kind of crazy? That I was totally okay with coming over to your ship?”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Technically, I should be terrified, right? But no, this is kind of cool.”

“Thought you might like it here.”

“It’s not so bad, especially the scenery.” 

And dear Lord, watching the interaction between First Officer and Criminal Counterpart made something hurt in Chris’ brain. “Commander Kirk will show you to your quarters while you remain a guest on the _Enterprise_ ,” he says, cutting them off before his ears started bleeding. “You’ll be required to be escorted anywhere you go in the ship, and you’re not to leave your cabin at any time. A security officer will be posted outside your door.”

“Sure,” Tam’a says. “Except, you know, that’s kind of pointless. Because, no lie, they’re not going to be able to subdue me if I don’t want them to? So, uh, you’re going to either have to trust me or find a different way to keep an eye on me.”

Chris doesn’t have time to answer before Hendorff coughs out a poorly disguised laugh. Tam’a glowers at the other man, sets his rucksack on the floor, and moves to stand in front of the security team. Smiling, he says, “Yeah, I know, looks are totally deceiving.”

“It’s not my place to say,” Hendorff says. “However, I believe a guard outside your door would be…”

The man doesn’t get to finish as Tam’a reaches out quick fingers, pinches a point on the bigger man’s neck, and drops Hendorff like a stone. Tam’a tips his head to one side, and says to the other two officers, “See, that’s why you’re going to have to trust me or find another way to keep an eye on me. Because shit like that, it’s just embarrassing for the big guy, and I’m not out to make anyone look stupid here.”

Chris ignores the little sigh of admiration emanating from his godson and the laughter Uhura can’t contain. Instead he clears his throat. “I think you’ve proven your point, Tam’a.”

“Cool,” the Vulcan says. “So, maybe I should just room with your First Officer? I assume the ship’s large enough for officers to have their own quarters, right?”

“Don’t you think that’s moving a little fast, son?”

Uhura mutters something that sounds like, “fainting Victorian heroine” at Jim and Jim protests. 

“Captain, perhaps it would be prudent…”

“Nope, no, not in a million years,” Chris denies. “Other than the fact that it goes against dozens of regs, I’m not opening ourselves to rumors and censorship from the rest of the crew. Tam’a, you’ll stay in a room cattycorner to Commander Kirk’s, and I will ask my science officer to suggest a way to track your movements around the ship. Agreed? Everyone? Great. You are dismissed; Kirk, please show our guest his quarters and give him a chance to settle in. I’ll see the two of you on the bridge in thirty minutes, and we’ll plot a course to the last location of L’wreth.”

“Thank you, Captain Pike,” Tam’a replied. “If… if you find it preferable, you may call me Spencer, instead of Tam’a?”

“Why not Spock?” Uhura asks, and the Vulcan flinches back. “Do you not approve of the name you were born with?”

“It’s a name I’ve guarded a very long time,” he replies. “I would not want my true name to be known around the galaxy, I’m sure you understand.”

“Then Spencer it is,” Kirk says. “Right, Nyota?”

“It’s fine by me,” she says, shrugging. “He’s your soon-to-be-spouse, after all.”

Chris watches both Kirk and Tam’a protest at the same time, and mentally ticks off a point on Uhura’s scoreboard. The threesome turns a corner and heads towards the turbolift; he watches as Tam’a slips his hand into Jim’s. Jim beams at the thief, then offers his other arm to Uhura, which she accepts.

Chris is certain that nothing good will come from the three of them combining forces. But his slightly rebel heart makes him realize that he can’t wait to see what will happen if they do.


	5. Making Strides

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got a LOT of writing done this week, so I'm posting an extra chapter this week. Enjoy!

**JAMES T. KIRK**

Tam’a ( _Spencer, Spock_ ) holds onto his hand as they step off the turbolift and head toward their rooms. Jim winks at Uhura as she peels away from them, walking in the opposite direction.

“So,” he starts, as he escorts the Vulcan into an open berth. “This will be your room while you’re here.”

“That’s… yeah, thanks, it’s fine.”

They stare at each other a moment. “Spock…”

The Vulcan’s eyes widen. “You’ve got to stop calling me that,” he says, and steps closer to Jim. “It’s both awesome and incredibly disturbing.”

“Awesome?”

Spock nods, and touches Jim’s shoulder with the hand not tangled with Jim’s. “I like hearing my name in your mouth,” he says, shrugging. “I’d like to hear it under different circumstances, honestly.”

Jim can’t help what he does next. He can’t stop himself from reeling the other man into his body and kissing him. And Spock doesn’t fight him; rather, the Vulcan all but melts into Jim’s embrace, sliding his fingers from Jim’s shoulder into his hair. Spock sighs, opens his mouth for Jim’s tongue, and it’s good – so good – hot and slick and he sucks at Spock’s lower lip to hear those breathy little pants keep coming.

They break only to breathe.

Spock’s chest is rising and falling and his eyes are almost all pupil. “Fuck, we have to stop, or I’m going to complete this bond right here.”

“Do it,” Jim says, not thinking. “Do it, we can worry about breaking it later.”

“Fuck, Jim, don’t. Just… I don’t think that we’re going to be able to break this bond afterwards.”

Jim jerks backwards as though shocked with electricity. “Wait, what?”

“I don’t think I can break this bond with you, if we forge it all the way,” he repeats. “I was talking to Drex, and he explained it as something different than normal bonding. It was a spontaneous bond; you could talk to me in my head from light years away almost immediately afterwards. This isn’t something that can be undone. It’s permanent. So unless one of us dies, that’s the only way out. So basically, no more melds, no more mind games, and if we fuck, we have to be careful.”

“What do you mean, if?” 

Spock raises an eyebrow at that, and wow – that’s an extremely attractive look. “Should I have said, ‘when’, instead? And that’s what you took away from my explanation?”

“We always knew it was going to be when, Spencer,” Jim replies, working on using Spock’s assumed alias. “Not if. In any case, I’m able to toe the line when it comes to this scenario, are you?”

It’s half challenge and half teasing; either way, Spock’s eyebrows raise higher on his forehead. “You’re a little shit,” he breathes, finally. “No wonder you’re so damn attractive.”

Jim full-out laughs, and Spock licks the sound out of his mouth. Humor turns into arousal instantly, and Jim finds himself pinned against the wall for the second time in his acquaintance with Spock. This time, however, the results are much more pleasurable. He wraps his legs around Spock’s waist and hitches himself up to rub their groins together. The way Spock tightens his fingers into Jim’s hips is a turn on in itself.

“Fuck, I want to fuck you,” Spock says, nibbling on Jim’s ear. “Want to fucking keep you slicked up and full of my seed.”

“Only if you let me return the favor,” Jim replies, and moans when Spock’s mouth comes across a sensitive spot on his neck. “I bet you’d be able to smell it, wouldn’t you? The way my come would smell inside you?”

“Yes.” The word’s a bare growl. “And we’d fuck until we’d collapse. We should do that now.” 

Jim’s initial reaction is to say, “YES, YES PLEASE NOW,” but he forces himself to say, “We’re going to have to wait. Pike expects us back on the bridge and I don’t want to be interrupted from taking my time with you.”

“Fuck,” Spock replies, and thumps his head into Jim’s chest. “I don’t know if it’s the bond, or you, or some combination thereof, but I want to rip your clothes to shreds and bury myself in you, and I don’t think I’d care if we had an audience or not.”

“You’re not normally an exhibitionist?”

Spock quirks a smile. “Not as such, no.”

“So basically, I make you lose control of yourself?”

“Don’t look so smug, Jim. It’s not attractive.”

“Lies! You think everything I do is attractive. You _like_ me.”

“I’m liking you less and less,” Spock says, which is a blatant lie, because Jim can still feel a hard Vulcan cock drilling into the seat of his pants. “Though I’m starting to see the benefits of having you go down on me. Think of all the silence…”

Jim swats at the other man and Spock grins wide and bright. “What? I bet I could get your whole crew to back me up on this, you mouthy thing.”

“Mouthy?!?!?”

“Mmm,” the thief replies, and kisses Jim to soften the sting. “But maybe I like it a little.”

They kiss for a few minutes, rumpling uniforms and hair and not caring about any of it. Jim can’t help but wonder how the bond affects him; he’s had a lot of one-night stands, but nothing’s ever felt as good as standing in front of his Vulcan and indulging in some heavy petting. He traces his fingers over Spock’s arms, under his grey shirt, over the curves of his firm and delectable ass. Spock returns every touch, every motion, and leads with a few of his own, and Jim wonders if at some point the thief stole all his bones and replaced them with pudding. “You feel so good,” Spock says, pressing against Jim again. “I like the way you move with me, like you belong there.”

“You make me want to stay here, keep you here like this,” Jim replies, softly. “I like the taste of your mouth.”

The touches linger, and neither man moves to break apart, not until a shrill alarm goes off. Jim’s communicator goes off and he answers it, saying, “Sir? What’s going on?”

“Five Klingon war birds just uncloaked around us,” Pike replies, voice tense. “They haven’t fired, but they’re hailing us.”

“We’re in the Neutral Zone!”

Suddenly, Spock grabs the communicator out of Jim’s hand. “The bird directly front and center, on the left paneling of the hull, what characters do you see? It’ll spell a house name, which one is it?”

Voices discuss in the background, and Uhura’s voice replies, “The ship has the name ‘Kruge’ on it.” 

“Give me two minutes and then open a channel to them,” Spock replies. “They’re not going to attack.”

“Why the hell not?”

“Because that’s family for you, the nosy bastards. I promise, two minutes!” Spock says, and turns off the comm device. “Jim, do me a favor.”

“What?”

“Take off your clothes and get us to the bridge as soon as possible.”

Jim doesn’t argue, though later he’ll wonder why.

**HIKARU SULU**

By the time Captain Pike has a channel open, an angry, ugly Klingon stares back. “Where is Tam’a?” the Klingon snarls.

Pike soothes as best he can, and when Tam’a and Jim stumble onto the bridge it only gets worse. 

Or so Hikaru thinks.

“You are a giant intergalactic cockblock!” the thief yells at the screen, as he’s busy pulling on his pants over tight black briefs. “Are you completely insane?”

All noise on both bridges stops; the Klingons can obviously see the bite marks across Tam’a’s chest and neck. Commander Kirk doesn’t look any better, but at least his pants are on by the time they make it onto the bridge. Hikaru pointedly does not look at the man’s bare chest and bare feet. 

“Kirk,” the Captain hisses, but the Commander ignores him. Kirk’s too busy staring at Tam’a.

It’s the sound of low male laughter that makes Hikaru blink and stop staring. Especially since the laughter isn’t coming from the bridge of the _Enterprise_. “So it’s true, then!” the Klingon roars, laughing. “The mighty Tam’a, tangled up with a _human_!”

“You’re a dick, Pheran,” the thief retorts, and yanks his shirt over his head. “I’m trying to get laid and you want to gossip! How did you find out so fast?”

Suddenly the main screen splits into two, and then three, and then four and five as the other Klingon ships join in the conversation. “Drex contacted Merhan, who contacted Denae, who contacted me, as I was closest to your last known location,” the Klingon named Pheran replies. “We were ordered to find the Federation vessel and determine the truth of my cousin’s words.”

“Don’t you have a planet to go invade instead?” Tam’a sighs, waving a hand. “You all seriously had nothing better to do?”

“We have no current plans of invasion that are worth pursuing above a direct order from her Royal Majesty Lakeer, Successor to the House of Arn,” a new voice chimes in, and Tam’a groans. “She would know of any potential mating, Tam’a, would invite you and your mate to Kronos for a celebration.”

“What. What are you talking about, how did Lakeer find out?”

“One of my cousins informed her.” And Pheran now not only looks smug, but sounds smug as well. “As you would well know, if you would respond to your messaging on you ship.”

Hikaru watches as the thief rubs at his temples. “So many things wrong with that statement, Pheran – first, I’m not a commander in the Klingon Empire, so trust me when I say I’m not going to check messages and be summoned at will. Secondly, I’m not bringing Jim to Kronos for a mating ceremony,” Tam’a says. “Because it’s going to last three weeks and I will never, NEVER get any peace with any of you around. And finally, I have no desire to be drunk in your presence, because I fear that I will once again find myself embarrassed beyond reparation, so no thank you!”

“It is not my concern that you cannot hold your liquor, little cousin,” Pheran replies, and Hikaru gapes at the way the Klingon attempts to smile. “Or that my mate has proof of your embarrassment. At least you can be thankful that she has decided not to share it with anyone other than our crew.”

A female voice says, “And I still have those images if I need to use them, cousin! I’m sure your newly chosen mate would be interested in seeing them. Besides, her Royal Majesty Lakeer, Successor to the House of Arn will not be pleased by the news that you will not come home. You know you are among her chosen kin!”

One of the commanders onscreen is a woman, Hikaru realizes, with some surprise. He glances at Tam’a, who groans audibly. “Don’t share those pictures with anyone! And how exactly does Lakeer think she’s going to explain me bringing a Starfleet vessel to Kronos? Because we can’t have a mating ceremony without bringing Jim’s family as well, it would be dishonorable. Surely the five hundred or so people aboard wouldn’t be welcomed.”

There’s dialogue offscreen; Hikaru watches in awe as the Klingon commanders discuss it. Captain Pike doesn’t look any more happy at the idea. “Tam’a,” he says, “There’s no way a Federation vessel would be able to go to Kronos without creating a massive uproar at Starfleet Command.”

“I know that,” Tam’a replies. “We’re not going to Kronos.”

“We will take your response to Her Royal Majesty Lakeer, Successor to the House of Arn,” says one of the commanders. “We will find you once more to give you her response.”

“Try not to be mostly naked next time, little cousin,” Pheran suggests. “As your scrawny appearance offends my eyes.”

“Scrawny…!”

Tam’a’s words fall on deaf ears, as the Klingon communication cuts off. As the warbirds cloak and depart, the entire bridge seems to let out a breath. “Pheran,” Tam’a grunts. “Dick. Ugh, this is why family sucks.”

“Meanwhile, I thought I’d ordered you both back to the bridge after Tam’a got settled in his new quarters,” Captain Pike says, bemused. “What happened, exactly, that clothes were lost?”

“Not enough happened,” Kirk replies, and then coughs to cover a grin as Pike glares. “What? He asked me to get undressed and get him to the bridge because he had a plan.”

Pike’s death glare doesn’t diminish. “At what point does nudity become a battle strategy?”

“When your Klingon cousins decide it’s more fun to see whether or not you’re getting laid as opposed to blowing up a Federation starship for kicks and grins,” Tam’a shoots back, and finally zips his pants. “I’m seriously going to kill my First Officer when I see him. Kill him dead. I don’t care if that’s redundant.”

“So what pictures does Pheran have of you, anyway?” Hikaru asks, before he can stop the words pouring out of his mouth.

The bridge crew stops and stares and the navigator shrinks a little in his seat. “What? You’re all thinking it!”

“Let’s just say that Klingon liquor isn’t for general consumption and leave it at that.”

“But that doesn’t explain why the commander threatened to show those pictures to Kirk,” Uhura adds, and damn. This is why Hikaru has a crush on her. Not only gorgeous, but smart and sharp as well. “Why would Kirk be interested in them?”

“I’m kind of a slut when I’m hammered,” Tam’a replies, going a little green in his cheeks. “And that’s all I’m gonna say about that.”

Hikaru watches as Commander Kirk reaches out to touch the thief, and watches as Tam’a curls into Kirk’s side. “Huh,” he mutters, and goes back to watching the stars. “Sir, shall I set a course for Edosia now that we have Tam’a onboard and haven’t any other immediate concerns?”

“Set the course, Sulu. Hit the gas.”

Hikaru punches it, ready to get a few thousand light years between the _Enterprise_ and Tam’a’s adoptive ‘family’. And he thought the crew of the _Enterprise_ was bad…

**NYOTA UHURA**

The Captain summons the senior staff to his ready room, along with Tam’a, and she can’t help but notice that a piece of parchment wouldn’t fit between Kirk and their guest thief. “So you two got cozy quickly.”

“Shut up,” Kirk says, and Uhura’s jaw almost drops when he blushes. He pulls the Vulcan off to one side and settles them closer to Pike. “So, now that we’re all here, let’s discuss the plan, shall we?” Pike says.

“I take it Jim explained to you what I showed him in the meld,” Tam’a says. “And what we talked about afterwards.”

“Yes, he did. And while I think it’s fine for us to take the Shield of R’na back to Edosia, to say that Tam’a was killed may not work out best for our relations with the Edosian people. Especially if they were to somehow find out it wasn’t true after the fact.”

“Captain, Minister Laa is a realist,” Kirk says, frowning. “I think he’s much more concerned with the return of an important artifact to his people than he is with catching Tam’a. At this point, he might find the thief to be someone else’s problem.”

“And he is someone else’s problem, Commander. He’s _our_ problem.”

Tam’a ducks his head. “Sorry? I wasn’t trying to piss off the Edosians, I just wanted to examine the hatch. It’s not even worth anything to me at this point – and it doesn’t give me any more evidence of foul play on L’wreth. They can have it back, for all I care.”

“The problem is that you can’t steal something whenever you want evidence to a potential crime!”

“Yeah, well, asking people directly doesn’t get me shit,” Tam’a replies tightly. “I tried diplomacy first and it got me fucking nowhere.”

“I think it’s important to note that the Edosians put out a reward for the return of their artifact with as secondary mention that they wanted to capture Tam’a,” Dr. Marcus interjects, before Pike can build a good head of steam. “Minister Laa, as the Commander said, is a pragmatist; I believe we can find a way to return the item without further issue. I would suggest that we message the Edosians to let them know we’ve found the Shield of R’na and will be returning it promptly.”

“And then what?” Tam’a asks. He slumps casually in his chair, but Uhura can see the tension in his shoulders as he speaks. “I’ve only got so much evidence to go on against the M’Nay. There are too many blank spaces to prove whether or not they were responsible for the ‘accident’ that killed a third of their people. And to be honest, that hatch was the last piece in the trail. It goes cold afterwards.”

“How long have you been searching for the truth to this matter?” Pike asks.

Tam’a doesn’t respond for a moment; finally, he says, “About six years. Right after I got my own ship and crew. I’ve had to find out everything the hard way, and it’s been a slow process.”

And Uhura, after talking to the Vulcan Elders, knows that means he was barely seventeen when he started digging into the mystery of his parent’s deaths. “I grieve with thee,” she offers.

He wrinkles his nose at her. “Uh. Thanks?”

His complete lack of knowledge of his own culture breaks her heart. “It’s a traditional Vulcan offering,” she explains softly. “Humans say, ‘I’m sorry for your loss’, instead.”

Tam’a flushes green in his cheeks. “Oh. Yeah, I’m not what you would call a traditional Vulcan.”

“Why didn’t you return to Vulcan and utilize their resources?” Dr. McCoy finally enters the conversation with that question. “My God, man, they probably could’ve had it solved for you by now!”

Tam’a laughs bitterly. “They would’ve wanted absolutely no part of me when I was old enough to think about returning to Vulcan. I would’ve blown all of their emotionless minds at once – a Vulcan who knows how to feel? Forget about the fact that I voluntarily touch people and have Klingon relatives and have an alleged criminal history that could fill an entire datapad.”

Everyone winces at the last statement. “That’s something else to address,” McCoy says. “I know that Jim’s halfway bonded to you, but he doesn’t want to think about the fact that it’s going to kill his career or break his heart in the long run.”

“Bones!” Kirk protests, but McCoy steamrolls over him.

“Shut up, kid,” the doctor says, gruffly. Uhura wants to kiss him. McCoy, not thier idiot friend. “No one else’s gonna say it to your face. If you go through with this, your career’s over, and you never know if the brass will try to charge you with something since you’d be marrying a criminal.”

The words are harsh, but obviously need to be said. Uhura watches Pike and the surly doctor exchange nods. Kirk, on the other hand, looks halfway shaken and halfway furious. 

It’s Tam’a who answers with, “We haven’t completed the bond, Jim. You still have the right to walk away, you know that. I’m not going to force you into anything.”

“Fuck that,” Kirk spits. “My dad knew my mom a week before he proposed to her, and they never had the benefit of dancing around in each other’s brains. I’m not ditching you now that things are tough, Spock. You’re going to have to just deal with that. So I don’t get command of a starship. There are plenty of other ways to be in space.”

“You could always captain a non-Federation ship, if you wanted,” Tam’a offers, to which the entire room resounds, “NO.”

“You’re not leaving Starfleet,” Pike snaps at both of them. “That’s not an option.”

“So why are you all helping me, then?” Tam’a asks. “It can’t be for Jim’s sake, and I know none of you have ever met me personally. So I don’t see what you get out of this.”

“How about the ability to do the right thing?” Uhura suggests. “Right by the Edosians, to return their relic; right by the M’Nay who died, to find out if there were others responsible; right by a tiny child who lost his parents and had his future carved out by circumstance. Starfleet’s a peacekeeping organization. So let us give you some sense of peace.” 

Tam’a blinks at her, and so do the rest of her crewmates. She rolls her eyes. “Honestly, this isn’t rocket science. If it had been any of us on that planet, we could’ve been the ones in your position. And – sorry, Captain – but it’s not like you’re the worst of the criminal element in the galaxy. I have no idea how you’ve managed to pull off some of the thefts you’ve been blamed for, but there are worse things to think about than theft.”

“Alleged theft,” he says.

“I’ve seen the Shield of R’na in your quarters,” she returns sweetly. “The word ‘alleged’ only gets you so far.”

Uhura mentally gives herself a pat on the back when he blushes.


	6. Bonding Time

**SPOCK – FORMERLY KNOWN AS TAM’A**

They’re taking the scrap metal hatch back to Edosia, where he’ll be forced to spend his time hiding on the ship while the Captain and crew play nice with the Edosian government. He’s not sure how to feel about any of it; staying with the _Enterprise_ , utilizing Federation resources, dealing with the M’Nay, finding his fucking bondmate – who’s actually not half bad...

“Thanks a lot,” says Jim, who wraps himself around Spock’s body. They’re in Jim’s quarters, allowed to spend time together while the Science Officer and Captain and others take them across the galaxy. “Not half bad, huh?”

“It’s not like this will last,” he mumbles, pulling away from Jim’s arms. “You’re Starfleet and I’m a Vulcan with a crazy past and no ‘honest’ future to speak of. We can’t bond.”

“Thought we already discussed that in front of the senior staff,” Jim replies. “You know, I wouldn’t be the first member of Starfleet to marry someone during our explorations. Starfleet doesn’t separate married couples, especially those with any kind of psy-sensitive bond. You’d be part of the _Enterprise_ crew, just like I am.”

“So you mean I’d be given the option to stay here, give up my own ship permanently, and never be able to speak to anyone claiming membership to the Klingon Empire again, right? Because that’s what staying on this ship offers me, Jim. Why wouldn’t you simply come with me to my ship? No rules, no regs, nothing but us and my sisters and my friends and the stars to explore.”

“And no honest way to make a living.”

“It’s not like we couldn’t do honest work,” Spock replies. “We could become a transport ship. Or something. I haven’t thought about it that far. But that’s the point. Neither of us are thinking about what comes next. I don’t want to give up my life completely to make my way in your world, and you don’t want to give up your world to make your way through mine. Where does that leave us?”

Jim sits down on a corner of the bed and stares up at Spock. “I don’t know. All I know is that from the moment you touched me in that cell, I knew that you and I belonged together. We can find a way to make this work. I don’t believe in no-win scenarios.”

“That must be nice,” Spock says. “Since no-win scenarios seem to be the story of my life. Fuck, I can’t even bond with someone without a thousand obstacles in the way.”

“Yeah, but bonding means you don’t deal with those obstacles alone anymore.”

Spock huffs out a breath. “When did you get to be so logical?”

“About the same time I realized my soulmate was a Vulcan,” Jim replies, and Spock sees the mischievous twinkle in his eyes. “Hell, we could spend a few years on the _Enterprise _, let me end my current tour of service, and then I could request a leave of absence so we could go exploring on our own. It’s not like it has to be one way or the other forever.”__

__“You don’t even know me, why…”_ _

__“Of course I know you,” Jim counters. “Or was that someone else’s mind I got to go rummaging around in?”_ _

__Spock sits next to Jim on the bed, so closely that their thighs and shoulders touch. The touch leads to an immediate flare of desire in his stomach. “I don’t want you to regret this. Once it’s done, it’s done.”_ _

__Jim shrugs. “Spock, I’ve been throwing myself blindly into things my entire life, because trusting my gut seems to work best for me. It’s a feeling, and I have faith in it. My gut tells me that you’re the real deal for me. The question is, are you going to let yourself be happy about it, or not?”_ _

__Spock turns his head so they’re looking at each other, and he softly says, “I’ve never dated anyone before unless it was for a long con.” Which, fuck, he isn’t sure he wanted to say, but Jim deserves to know. “I’ve gotten off with a lot of people because I can read what they want and I really, really like sex. But this… this is different. And I want to fuck you, crazy badly. It isn’t just about lust anymore, if we do this.”_ _

__Jim kisses him as an answer._ _

__Spock freezes for a few seconds, and that gives Jim enough time to push him onto his back, crawling on top of him to pin him to the mattress. By the time Spock gathers his wits, Jim’s sitting in the cradle of his pelvis, rocking against him. “So. Not just lust?”_ _

__Spock dumps him over onto the bed, catching Jim’s laughter between his teeth. Clothes go flying in different directions, until he and Jim can press together skin-on-skin. “Meld with me,” he begs, and Jim grins._ _

__Spock’s fingers find the psy-points on Jim’s face without hesitation, and he murmurs, “My mind to your mind, my thoughts to your thoughts…”_ _

__He’s never made out with someone mentally and physically at the same time before, but it’s glorious; Jim’s an open book, warm and lazy and inviting, curling up in his psyche like an overfed cat. Jim’s thoughts are just as enticing as they were the first time; Spock realizes that Jim’s mind is sorted like the old Dewey Decimal System from hundreds of years earlier in history, with random thoughts slated into neatly-organized spaces._ _

__There are thousands of spaces to explore. As he reaches out to start opening drawers, he hears (and feels) Jim’s laughter. “More kissing?” Jim says/thinks, and Spock can’t help but agree with his sentiment._ _

__They rut against each other as their mouths move, and Spock’s initial desire to sink into Jim never rears its head. In its place, a warm, silver-blue thread weaves between them, tugging and pulling them until they’re perfectly aligned. Even his orgasm dulls in comparison to the feeling of completeness and rightness and belonging._ _

__“That was…”_ _

__“Yeah,” Jim replies, and moves his hand to massage some of his semen into Spock’s hip. “That was.”_ _

__They lay together, sticky and sated, neither in a hurry to move from the other. “We’ll get through this,” Jim says. “We’ll figure it out.”_ _

__“I believe you,” Spock replies, because he can feel the honesty pouring off his lover’s skin. “This feels – what does it feel like to you? My heart’s pounding out of my chest. Every emotion you experience reverberates inside me. Like two tuning forks that hit and mimic each other.”_ _

__“You poet.”_ _

__Spock rolls his eyes. “You know what I mean.”_ _

__“No, but I want to hear more about the forks. In fact, darling,” and here Jim drawls the word, making Spock smile, “I desperately want to… fork you.”_ _

__Spock snorts and dissolves into giggles, pleased by the way Jim curls around him, spooning him. “That was awful.”_ _

__“And yet, you’re aroused,” Jim says, smug, sliding a hand over Spock’s cock. “In fact, you really, really want me to fork you, don’t you?”_ _

__“I fell in love with an idiot,” Spock declares, but spreads his legs for Jim anyway._ _

__Later, that declaration of love will be what Spock sticks to, when he agrees to Jim’s hare-brained plan of getting him back on Edosia, with no one the wiser._ _

__**MINISTER NAVEEN LAA, OF THE EDOSIAN EMPIRE** _ _

__He isn’t sure whether to laugh or cry with relief when the Starfleet Captain hands him the Shield of R’na. Maybe both, if he’s honest with himself. “On behalf of the entire Empire, may I offer you our thanks, Captain Pike,” he says, and rubs at his eyes to dash away the moisture there. “We are so very, very grateful to you and your crew.”_ _

__“We were glad to assist, Minister Laa,” the Captain replies._ _

__“I am sorry about the escape of the criminal Tam’a, but it was not our first concern,” Laa continues, as the landing party of the great Starship walks towards the capital building with him from the smaller transport building. “We were in the midst of opening an exhibit in the temple to display the most recent items bestowed upon us by our gods when that… that thief! Stole one of the most prized possessions from the collection.”_ _

__“Minister, I didn’t realize the Edosians displayed their items in such a manner,” Lieutenant Uhura says, questioningly. “Is this a recent practice?”_ _

__“Oh!” Laa exclaims, smiling. “Well, yes, in fact, it is! When we were invited to attend one of the Federation meetings on Earth five solar revolutions ago, I was able to see something called a ‘museum’. I found the idea fascinating, as did many of the members of the expedition party! We were impressed by the way those visitors around us felt more connected to the items in the museum by being able to see them in person. So, when we returned to Edosia, we met with our priests to see if we couldn’t do something similar. The religious elders were ecstatic to bring the gods that much closer to their worshippers. We’d had two exhibitions before that miserable thief stole away the Shield!”_ _

__Laa stops mid-stride and fans himself. “Forgive my hot temper, my friends,” he says, huffing. “But if I were to get my hands on that brigand, I wouldn’t be able to restrain myself! Oh! I’d like to give him a good piece of my mind!”_ _

__”I’m sure you aren’t the first to feel that way, Minister Laa,” says Commander Kirk. “Don’t you agree, Lieutenant?”_ _

__Laa takes in the Vulcan science officer that had beamed down with the rest of the party. Another Kirk, as the Captain had said. “Indeed, Commander,” the solemn Vulcan replies. Laa watches him straighten, fold his arms behind his back to grasp his right wrist with his left hand. “I find that there are many who would – as human vernacular says – wish to get their hands on Tam’a.”_ _

__Laa takes in the way the two Kirks glance at each other; notices the way the blond First Officer’s cheeks flush. It seems he’s not the only one to have picked up on the Vulcan’s wording. Laa doesn’t pay it any mind; the Vulcan (being Vulcan) probably has no idea what he just insinuated. “Well, I appreciate your sentiments, Commander Kirk,” Laa says, breaking the moment between the pair. He starts walking again. “I must admit, it’s a bit startling to find a married couple aboard the Federation’s flagship. When Lieutenant Uhura spoke to our communications team and mentioned two ‘Kirks’, I thought you would be siblings. That was obviously not the case upon meeting you. I hope my question won’t offend, but how did you two… meet?”_ _

__The blond Kirk laughs, not offended in the least, and Laa sighs in relief. “Don’t worry Minister,” he says. “You’re not the first to wonder how a Vulcan and a human married.”_ _

__“It does seem rather out of character for a Vulcan, forgive my saying so,” Laa replies. “I have had the privilege of meeting several members of the Vulcan Science Academy, and none gave the impression of being interested in human bondmates.”_ _

__“It is most unusual,” says the Vulcan. “But, as I was raised partially amongst human companions, I found no reason to deny the bond originating between the Commander and myself.”_ _

__“You can call me Jim, Spencer,” the blond teases his bondmate and, to Laa’s surprise, the Vulcan’s eyebrow raises in an arch. “When we’re not talking about professional business.”_ _

__“As you say, Commander,” the Vulcan defers politely._ _

__“I’m still working on him to drop the titles at times,” the human Kirk confides, grinning. “We’re in progress.”_ _

__Minister Laa beams a smile. “I think it’s delightful,” he says. “that Starfleet can open up the opportunity for such matches to occur.”_ _

__Laa leads them into the capital building, to the exhibit area where all of the other items from their gods are presented for public viewing. “The exhibit will travel at the end of this cycle,” Laa explains, as he adds the Shield of R’na to the display. “It will travel the provinces so that all may have the opportunity to see our history and blessings.”_ _

__“Fascinating,” the Vulcan says in response. And then, as Laa watches, the Vulcan freezes, staring past Laa’s shoulder at a secondary piece of the collection._ _

__“Spencer…?” the blond Kirk asks, and Laa watches as both he and Lieutenant Uhura move beside the Vulcan. “Spencer, what…”_ _

__The dark-haired officer points to the far corner of the room, where Laa has asked the council to present some of the other offerings from the solar revolution. “Jim,” the Vulcan says, his voice going hoarse. “Jim, either I’m fucking crazy, or there’s an entire platform from L’wreth in the corner of the room that’s shot up with Romulan disruptor fire.”_ _

__The entire _Enterprise_ crew explodes into conversation at once. Laa finds himself pulled to the side as the Captain apologizes profusely for the lack of decorum, but Laa... Laa’s been a politician for almost thirty solar revolutions, alive for more than sixty solar revolutions, and he knows when people are trying to deceive him. He holds up a hand and says, “Enough!” even as the Captain continues to explain. Laa waves over two of the exhibit guardians and says, “You will all wait here.”_ _

__They fall silent, except for the Vulcan, who’s already across the room and standing in front of the centerpiece of the exhibit. Laa watches the dark-haired man visibly force himself not to touch the… platform? He looks lost, like a child, and Laa may not be Vulcan himself, but he knows enough of their culture to know that something’s rotten in the Province of Eo. He steps toward the Vulcan, ignoring the way the crew of the _Enterprise_ fusses behind him, and walks toward the younger man. “It is beautiful, is it not?” he says, when he reaches the Vulcan’s side._ _

__“It’s… it’s history,” the Vulcan stammers. “But it’s more than that, Minister Laa.”_ _

__“What is it, then, other than a gift from our gods?”_ _

__“Minister. Sir,” he begins, and takes a deep breath. “Minister Laa, that is part of a platform used on a planet called L’wreth, where thousands of innocents died twenty years ago.”_ _

__Laa’s curiosity peaks. “Why would you say that, young one?”_ _

__The boy – for Laa can no longer see anything but the anguish of a child in his face – points towards a corner of the structure. “That black text across the base of the platform acknowledges it as belonging to the M’Nay R’nastic Mining Company. They were a great society known for their ability to build and mine. The Shield of R’na was also part of their society.”_ _

__“And?”_ _

__“If you look at the center of the platform, Minister, you’ll notice it melted. And the charring along the edges…” and here, the Vulcan points to a bluish metallic stain, “that’s from Romulan plasma disruptor. It’s… I’ve been looking for this a very long time, Minister. I needed proof that there were people responsible for the collapse of that planet, and this… this is it.”_ _

__“Who did you lose on L’wreth?” Laa asks, intuition kicking in._ _

__“My mother and father,” he replies. “I was three. I was lucky, someone grabbed me and took me off-planet with them.”_ _

__“Which is why you stole the Shield to begin with,” Laa says, and watches as the younger man’s body goes as stiff as a plank. It confirms his theory immediately. “Easy, Tam’a. You have no reason to fear me.”_ _

__“Forgive me, Minister, but I feel I have many reasons to fear you,” the Vulcan says, a wry smile quirking half of his mouth. “Not only for myself, but for the innocent crew I blackmailed to bring me to your planet.”_ _

__Laa looks back toward the other individuals who beamed down from the Federation starship. “I find that I can understand your desire to give yourself closure. Perhaps you and I should rejoin our friends and discuss this further. I would guess they’re aware of your true identity?”_ _

__“They are, Minister Laa.”_ _

__Laa waves a hand. “Call me Naveen, young one. I have a feeling we’re about to know each other well.”_ _

__**CHRISTOPHER PIKE** _ _

__It’s taken them almost an hour to bring Laa up-to-speed on who Tam’a is and what they’re trying to do. “So you felt it better to bring him here to see the rest of the items he could steal?” Laa asks, and Chris feels his headache bloom into a migraine._ _

__“Minister, all due respect, but the only reason the Shield of R’na was stolen was because your Empire denied his requests for it to be examined,” Lieutenant Uhura says. “And while we understand its value as a religious artifact, we also are bound to investigate any and all potential threats against Federation members. By not having the full scope of data, Starfleet wouldn’t have the ability to properly investigate the destruction of the planet L’wreth or the demise of those individuals living and working there.”_ _

__“That doesn’t absolve anyone from blatant theft! And yet you trust him, here, on a planet he has stolen from previously?”_ _

__“Minister, if it was your planet, your family – wouldn’t you want someone to fight for justice on your behalf?” Jim asks. “Picture everyone you love dead, and then tell me you wouldn’t desperately want to hunt down those responsible.”_ _

__Naveen Laa drops back in his chair. “I understand the desire far too well, Commander Kirk. But as an adult, it doesn’t mean I would indulge in it.”_ _

__“Now imagine you’re barely twenty revolutions, Minister. And you didn’t grow up with anyone to guide you as to what’s right and wrong,” Chris says. “We aren’t condoning what happened and we rectified the injury done to Edosia’s people. But we also can’t close our eyes to the horror that happened twenty years ago and several thousand light years away.”_ _

__“Minister Laa…Naveen, I’m sorry,” Tam’a says, from where he sits to Jim’s left. “I’d been turned away from so many places that might’ve helped me, and I couldn’t take the idea of one more defeat. I had to know if the Shield was the missing piece of the puzzle I’ve been trying to solve for six years.”_ _

__“And what about all the other thefts accredited to you?”_ _

__Chris watches a variety of emotions flit across Tam’a’s face. “I’m not exactly innocent, but I didn’t steal all of the things people blame me for, either.”_ _

__Minister Laa sighs. “I must be getting old and tired,” he says, and rubs his face, “for wanting to believe in such a scheme. But you are too far removed from any semblance of Vulcan behavior I’ve ever met, and here I am, listening to your admission of guilt, freely given, and disregarding it anyway.”_ _

__Before anyone can speak, Chris says, “I’m not sure what to infer from that, Minister.”_ _

__“The easiest way for me to explain is by telling you that I wish to believe in what Tam’a is saying,” Laa replies. Tam’a all but grins, and Laa exhales roughly. “I will explain to the elders that the items in the collection may be requisitioned by Starfleet for examination at some point in the future. We have, on occasion, allowed artifacts to be removed from the planet to be further studied by other cultures – such as the Vulcan Science Academy. So when you have your proof against those who harmed your loved ones, you may take the appropriate steps to collecting your evidence against them.”_ _

__“Minister Laa…!”_ _

__The Minister holds up a hand, cutting the thief off. “In return,” he says, “You will remove certain bondmates from the registry of those who are welcome on the planet’s surface, and during the _Enterprise’s_ next visit, they can stay on your ship. For my mental health, if for no other reason,” he adds, sighing. _ _

__Chris doesn’t expect two arms to wrap around Laa in a bone-crushing hug. “Thank you,” the Vulcan says, not worrying about who’s listening. “Gods, Naveen, thank you.”_ _

__“You are welcome,” Laa replies, patting the Vulcan on the back. “You’re welcome, young one, but the sooner you leave this place, the less orange my hairs become.”_ _

__Chris looks up at the grey in his own hair, and couldn’t agree more. “Your generosity is most gratefully recognized, Minister Laa.”_ _

__The Minister disentangles himself from the Vulcan octopus. “Yes, noted,” he says, clearing his throat. “If I may ask… did you two bond once the _Enterprise_ captured you?”_ _

__Tam’a goes bright green. “Err, I actually captured them first, Minister, the senior crew. But yes. Jim and I bonded after I released them.”_ _

__Laa pauses for a moment, looks to Chris, who can do nothing other than roll his eyes and nod. Laa – Naveen – takes a deep breath to speak and then shakes his head and starts laughing. “One day, I hope someone puts this story into written word and shares it around the galaxy,” he says, when he regains his composure. “For it would be the kind of story worthy of surviving history.”_ _

__“I couldn’t agree more,” Tam’a says, slipping his hand into Jim’s. “I find myself to be most fortunate as of late.”_ _

__“I wish for you good luck and many blessings, Tam’a,” Laa says, and stands. “I would thank you again for returning the Shield of R’na to our people. While I request that you and your bondmate return to your vessel, I would invite the rest of you to stay and dine with our elders.”_ _

__“We would be honored,” Chris says. “I’ll escort my two crewmen to the transport building and would be happy to join you afterwards.”_ _

__Laa nods and points to a guard. “Escort them to the transport building, and then bring Captain Pike to Aldoras Hall.”_ _

__The guard leads the three of them out of the capital building and back to the transporter. Chris lingers behind the man a few paces and says to his godson and Vulcan, “I am going to have both of you killed after lunch.”_ _

__“Uncle Chris…!”_ _

__“Don’t Uncle Chris me! Do you realize how lucky we were that Laa didn’t decide to arrest all of us after that outburst? To knowingly let him find out who you are…”_ _

__“I found out that Romulans killed my parents and destroyed my life,” Tam’a says, cutting Chris off. “And I’m sorry, but I never expected to have solid proof shoved into my face in the middle of the exhibition.”_ _

__“That stunt could’ve ended our relationship with Edosia.”_ _

__“But it didn’t,” Jim says. “Laa, for whatever reason, is on our side. And he invited us back to Edosia! Well… he invited you guys back to Edosia. Honestly, the crew would probably love to take a full shore leave here, it’s gorgeous.”_ _

__“Not the point, Jim.”_ _

__“If they had arrested me, I’d have been gone in a minute. I’m glad we were only banished,” Tam’a says. “Now that I know it was Romulans, I can go back through all of the evidence I have, and see if I can connect the Romulan Empire to the M’Nay government. And then we can see whether or not we can find out who’s to blame, and destroy them.”_ _

__“Destroy them?”_ _

__“Arrest them, ruin them, however you want to put it,” the thief replies. “I want them obliterated from the universe, but I wouldn’t be averse to arresting them.”_ _

__“Sounds kinda hypocritical there,” Jim says, and nudges the Vulcan in the ribs. “Take a breath.”_ _

__“At least I never killed innocent people. Or killed anyone at all,” the Vulcan says, and they step onto the transporter. “I’m not the bad guy here.”_ _

__“A little bad,” Jim corrects, as he steps onto his own transporter space. “But I’ve always had a thing for the bad ones.”_ _

__As Chris watches, the pair gives each other shy smiles and knowing looks. Chris groans. “DO NOT break my ship. I’ll see you both after lunch.”_ _

__“Not too soon though?” Jim asks. Chris grimaces when his godson waggles eyebrows at him._ _

__“I’ll see you both in my ready room for dinner at eighteen hundred hours.”_ _

__“Yes, sir,” Tam’a replies. He gives Chris a cheeky grin. “We promise, sir. Thank you, sir.”_ _

__Chris knows he’s getting lip service, but turns and says to the guard, “To Aldoras Hall, please.”_ _

__The sound of the transporter beaming up Kirk and Tam’a is the only response he gets._ _


	7. Family Ties

**LEONARD MCCOY**

Life as Jim Kirk’s best friend isn’t all sunshine and peach cobbler, Len knows. Jim’s got a few habits that would drive his Mama to drink. Right now, Len’s not being driven to drink – he’s being driven to kill. His victims? Jim and Jim’s new bond mate thief. And why?

Because neither of them concern themselves with the fact that the walls of a starship are paper-thin.

“Harder! Fuck, Jim…”

Len doesn’t bother knocking on Jim’s door. He cheats and uses his override codes, because if this isn’t a medical emergency yet, it may soon be when he loses his goddamn mind. He barges into Jim’s bedroom, not caring if he’s going blind from the sight of his best friend’s bare ass, and shouts, “Are you two about done in here?”

Len never knew Vulcans were that flexible and is perversely amused at the way they disentangle. Tam’a squeaks when Jim pulls out, both of them scrambling for the sheet. “Now, I don’t know how they do things where you’re from,” Len snarls at the green-cheeked Vulcan and Jim both, “but down in Georgia, we try not to assault our neighbor’s ears with the sounds of our lovin’. An’ I can assure you, I am _not in the mood to listen_.”

“Bones!” Jim protests, yanking the sheet higher over both of their laps. “How did you get in? I didn’t even hear the door chime!”

“I let myself in, Jim. Either that, or I was going to start pumping oneirogenic anaesthetics through your cabin vents and knock you both unconscious. Both options were equally appealin’, let me tell you.”

“Were we really that loud?” Tam’a asks, still flushed.

“Yes!” Len growls. 

“M’sorry,” the thief replies, covering his face with one hand. Len watches as the Vulcan’s shoulders shake until laughter forces its way out of the thief’s chest. “Fuck, that’s hilarious.”

“I’m glad you think so!” 

“Bones… Spock, stop laughing,” Jim says, both chastising and chastised. “We’re sorry to have disturbed your beauty sleep, Bones. I know how much you need it.”

Len rolls his eyes at his friend’s sarcasm. The thief, meanwhile, gasps for air as he tries to pull himself together. Len says, “Not all of us are on our honeymoon, kid. I don’t need to hear the two of you shoutin’ down the walls, you hear?”

“We didn’t hear ourselves, but obviously you did,” Jim replies, which sets Tam’a into fits of giggles again. “We’ll try not to be so loud.”

“Thank you,” Len says. “And also, Jim, don’t think I missed that bruising on your hips. I’ve got a dermal regenerator if you need it. Otherwise Uhura’ll never let you forget it if you go limping around the bridge tomorrow.”

Jim’s embarrassment makes Len feel better. He reaches over and pats Jim on the arm then lets himself out of the room.

He makes it halfway back into his door before Captain Pike calls out his name. He turns and raises an eyebrow in the Captain’s general direction. Pike looks rumpled, standing half in and half out of his stateroom. “Were you able to make them stop?”

Len sags, tries not to laugh. “I might’ve busted in on them, yes. Medical emergency for the sanity of those on either side of ‘em.”

“Thank you,” Pike replies. Obviously Len wasn’t the only one being kept awake by the monkey yowling. Pike gestures into his room. “Drink?”

Len’s not one to turn down the Captain’s good bourbon. He passes Jim’s door again – and the blessed silence within – to get to his commanding officer. “Thank you, Captain.”

“You can call me Chris,” Pike replies, once the door closes behind them. He smiles. “I think we can drop the titles for the time being, don’t you?”

Len nods, offers, “Len, then.”

They sit at a table with two comfortable chairs and Pike pours them each a shot. “He never does anything by halves, does he.”

It’s not a question, and Len snorts. “No, no he doesn’t. It would just figure that the first time James Kirk comes face-to-face with the most notorious criminal in the galaxy, he’d be destined for an epic love story with the man. And damned if he hasn’t already halfway figured out how to get Tam’a out of prison and solve a twenty year old crime in the process.”

They shake their heads at Jim’s Jim-ness in unison. “I don’t know that it’s going to be so easy to excuse Tam’a from past actions,” Pike says. “The only thing he has on his side is anonymity. If someone else discovers that Spock and Spencer and Spyder and whoever the hell else he’s been are actually Tam’a, we’re screwed.”

“Jim mentioned something to me about Vulcan granting him immunity. Supposedly Uhura’s got a friend of a friend who’s familiar with an Elder named T’Pau. She’s some sort of family to the Vulcan ambassador who died on L’wreth. I think her house would take him in, if given the chance.”

“Except he wants no part of his Vulcan heritage,” Pike says. “We discussed it at dinner, after Uhura and I managed to pacify Minister Laa.”

“Have you ever noticed how we’d all be damned without Uhura?” Len can’t help but ask. “Has anyone noticed her quietly taking over the ship when no one’s awake?”

“Len. She’s taking over the ship whether we’re awake or not,” Pike says, and gives him a fond smile. “It’s the same way Jim’s slowly solving a twenty-year-old murder that could put the Federation in better standings with the M’Nay in the long run, along with eliminating a threat by bonding to a criminal who just might stop stealing if he’s got something better to live for.”

“I worry for the day Jim gets his own ship,” Len laments, and Pike laughs while pouring them another drink. “I’m going to be bald if I keep pulling out my hair at all of Jim’s stunts and Uhura’s brains.”

“Welcome to the club,” Pike says, and swallows his shot. “And, the worst part, once you’re a member of the club, there’s no escape.”

“Bullshit,” Len says. “I could shake them if I had to.”

“You were Jim’s roommate for how many years at the Academy? Leonard, have you ever heard of something called Stockholm Syndrome?”

Len glares for all of a second before he’s laughing. “I don’t know what happened,” he says. “One minute I was in a shuttlecraft tryin’ to vomit on him, and the next thing I know, I’m stuck with a permanent Kirk-shaped shadow.”

“But you wouldn’t trade it away.”

“Not for the world. Even when I want to kill him.”

Pike nods. “And that’s why he’s my godson, and on my ship.”

“So basically you’re sayin’ we’re both crazy.”

“Drink your bourbon. It’s not going to drink itself,” Pike says, in lieu of answering. Or maybe it’s an answer all in itself.

**PHERAN, OF THE HOUSE OF KRUGE**

“What do you mean, you let them leave?”

Pheran stiffens his spine while facing her Royal Majesty Lakeer, Successor to the House of Arn. “He would not return to Kronos, Majesty, despite your wishes. He wishes to keep his bonding a quiet affair at this time.”

Lakeer gives him a look that would smite a lesser warrior. “He is the most stubborn creature!” she snarls. “I would offer him the wealth of the Empire for his use, and he ignores it!”

“He is proud, Lakeer,” Pheran says, risking the use of her name. She has always favored him, despite his bonding to a mate of lower House status. “He disregards all civilized rule to create his own path, much like the warriors of old. I cannot fault him for his independence. It was the reason he was able to outwit those who took you, once.”

Lakeer is uninterested in remembering that at times, the parts of Tam’a she loves best are also those which infuriate her the most. “You will return to Kronos with your commanders, Pheran. I will rendezvous with you here, and then you will take me to that ridiculous blood brother of mine.”

“Majesty, your safety would not be guaranteed…”

She makes a noise that Tam’a often makes; she presses her lips together and blows out air so they vibrate in something Tam’a calls a ‘raspberry’. It is the most effective yet annoying way Pheran’s ever lost the upper hand in conversation. “I know the risks,” Lakeer interrupts. “I also know that my blood brother wouldn’t return to our planet unless with both arms twisted behind his body and threats to separate his head from his shoulders, the wretch! You will return and we will find him together.”

“He’s in Federation space, Majesty!”

“Then you’d better ensure your cloaking devices hold.”

The screen cuts out and Pheran snarls in sheer frustration. He orders, “Hail the other five vessels!”

His four commanders are onscreen immediately, along with a fifth ship that does not belong to his small fleet. Two humans and his cousin await him on the _Amanda_. “You heard our orders,” he says, vexed. “We return to Kronos to offer our services to her Royal Majesty Lakeer, Successor to the House of Arn.” 

“Is it safe for Tiger and I to travel with you to Kronos? We haven’t been back since, well… since we helped Lakeer get home,” says the fire-haired human to Drex’s left. “Should we meet with you afterwards?”

“You will come,” Kadra says, and Pheran is relieved to let his mate answer on his behalf. Lesser House or not, she is his rock and his guidance across the worlds. “You are worthy allies to our cousin and a member of our House and you would not be denied.”

Pheran wonders how his life got so complicated; beyond warfare, beyond loyalty to Empire and mate. He has been forced to acknowledge that a Vulcan and two humans are equal warriors to those Klingons he serves with, despite their often dishonorable endeavors. “You are sister-cousins to the royal house due to your relationship to Lakeer and Tam’a,” he adds, when it looks like Kadra has finished. “You would be met with honor.”

Both humans smile at him and begin thanking him furiously. He can feel Drex and Kadra radiate their approval in silent facial expressions, which is more to his liking. “Enough. We have ways yet to travel to meet with Princess Lakeer. There will be time for more conversations to come.”

Pheran orders them back to Kronos. Kadra moves to his side, hands clasped behind her back. “I would have words with you, beloved,” she says, simply, and Pheran has no desire to do anything but to follow her from the bridge. He directs his second to lead his crew and walks with Kadra to the lift. Once in privacy, she says, “I would know your true thoughts on an idea I have,” she says.

“What?”

“I would offer an idea that we go to what is left of L’wreth and pursue our own investigation of the events that transpired there,” she says, bluntly. “It is within the Neutral Zone, now; we would not risk any outside interference. If we would find a solution to the issue that Tam’a faces, we would offer him the ability to focus his efforts elsewhere.”

“Lakeer promised his that the Empire would not interfere in his search.”

“No, mate,” she says. “She said she would not impede his search, and there is a difference. If we find the answer to his lifelong question, we would not be impeding anything. I beg you to present this suggestion to Lakeer when you see her. She would take it better from your mouth than mine.”

“Kadra…”

“I speak the truth. I know she was displeased by our joining, Pheran. She had hopes for you within her own House and did not approve of my advancing my social status by accepting your suit.” 

“I did not care about your title or mine, my love,” Pheran murmurs to her, watching her dark skin darken further. “I wished to be happy in my choosing, and so I am. I would be honored to take your suggestion to Lakeer, with one condition.”

“Which is?”

“When I convince Lakeer to accept this plan, I would give credit to you for the idea. I want her to know I chose wisely.”

Kadra kisses him and calls him a fool in the same breath, but he doesn’t care. He is already too busy turning the idea over in his head – to solve the mystery that is Tam’a, to offer their Vulcan cousin closure and assistance.

He also considers what the outcome would be if he suggested contacting Vulcan to Lakeer. Maybe a Princess could bridge the divide between Klingon and Vulcan for the good of one lost thief.

**MONTGOMERY SCOTT**

Watching Tam’a, Commander Kirk, and Ensign Chekov run simulations boggles Scotty’s mind. It’s not often he can find one person to keep up with him, let alone two. And Kirk’s new husband makes for a critical third to the math they throw carelessly around the room. They long ago drove away Captain Pike, Doctor McCoy, and Science Officer Marcus. Honestly, Scotty couldn’t be arsed to care about them, when warp physics was on the table.

“I cannae help but notice yew donnah add up the velocity correctly,” he adds in, when Tam’a rubs out a number on the PADD.

“It’s inversely proportional to the direct velocity,” the thief replies, and references a previous equation. “I’ve already calculated for the planet’s mass over here, which Pasha could utilize for any further data. Forgive me, I didn’t mention I’d changed an earlier number.”

Both Jim and Scotty stare at him lustfully. Scotty’s not used to wanting to jump people he’s just met, but he thinks he could make an exception for the Vulcan. Until Kirk kicks his ass, of course. “Right. Och, that’s brilliant. Problem solved. How did ye learn about such advanced engineerin’, laddie?”

“My father was an engineer,” Tam’a replies, as Chekov practically crawls over him to get to the PADD. “My adoptive father.”

“I’m sorry I never met the man,” Scotty declares, watching the Vulcan’s chest puff out with pride. “He must’ae been a genius.”

“He was. He could build, fly, or steal anything.”

Keenser drifts in, makes a gratified sound, and returns to his own tinkering. Scotty doesn’t pay him any mind. “If ye ever want an honest job, then…”

“Thank you, Mr. Scott,” Kirk interrupts, glaring at him. “I think we can go back to the formula now, yes?”

Jealousy-green’s a good color on the Commander. Jealousy must be Vulcan-blooded, Scotty thinks, before the math takes his mind away again. It takes them over an hour, but they finally determine what force could’ve been used to detonate charges to destroy a planet. “Eet was zee Romulans for sure,” Chekov says, when they create the simulation in four dimensions. “Nothing else but a deesruptor could have cawsed such damage with that short range. The Romulans must have been on zee planet and set their disruptors to go off in a timed manner.”

“Almost like the old-days, when bombs were set with alarm clocks,” Tam’a says, and closes his eyes. “They must’ve set the disruptors, left the planet’s surface, and then waited for the show.”

“I donnae understand what motivated the Romulans to take such action.”

“Greed,” Tam’a replies. “I’ve been researching this for a long, long time. Twenty years ago, a Vulcan ambassador and his wife and son were sent on behalf of Vulcan to bring the M’Nay into the Federation. It was previously determined that the M’Nay would be better served by logic than by human emotion. After a brief visit to the M’Nay’s home planet N’Prax, they also visited L’wreth. Shit timing took care of the rest. Ironically, the Romulan’s plan backfired. Once L’wreth was destroyed, the M’Nay were all too anxious to join the Federation. They signed Federation treaties within twenty four hours of the accident. I could never solve the ‘why’ as to why the M’Nay would blow up their own planet. It fucked up my search for years.”

“Beecauze it wasn’t the M’Nay at all,” Chekov says. “Eet was Romulus.”

“That makes so much more sense. And holy shit, we did it. We actually figured out what happened. Those fuckers, I hope they fuckin’ die!”

Listening to a Vulcan swear confuses and amuses Scotty, but when applied to the topic at hand, he can’t help but want to swear a blue streak as well. “I dinnae think the Cap’n will allow ye ta go that far, but I cannae help but agree wit’ ya.”

He watches as Kirk pulls Tam’a close and the thief sinks into the embrace. “We’re with you,” Kirk murmurs, loudly enough to be heard but softly enough to comfort. “We’ll bring charges against the Romulan Empire and we’ll do everything possible to bring you justice.”

“It’s a shitshow, and you know it,” Tam’a says, and laughs bitterly. “The Federation’s inches away from war with the Romulan Empire. All their pretty treaties to keep a ‘Neutral Zone’ between three conflicting Empires, and you think the Federation’s going to risk that to get justice for one Vulcan and a few thousand M’Nay? Forget it. I learned what happened, and that’s all I’m going to get if I stay here with you.”

“What does that mean?” Kirk barks. “If you stay here with me?”

“I means I think I have to find my ship and crew, and handle this myself. I hope… I hope I can depend on the Federation to keep their word, and get the platform from Edosia when the time comes.”

“You can’t seriously think I’m going to let you go after the Romulans by yourself!”

Tam’a slumps against Kirk’s chest. “Of course not. I’ve got an entire Empire behind me, one who’s wanted to wipe out Romulus for a long, long time.”

Kirk shakes the thief. “The Klingons? So, what – you become a full-scale Klingon General, and the Empire helps you wipe out Romulus in revenge? Do you realize the loss of life that will cause? You’ll be the worst mass murderer in the entire history of space! You’re not looking at this rationally!” 

“Fuck rational!” Tam’a shouts. “Fuck all the logical, rational ideas people have! I want my fucking parents back, Jim, and I’ll never be able to have that. They took _everything_ from me and I want blood for it!”

Scotty steps away, comms security and Doctor McCoy, summons them to Engineering. He pulls Chekov out of the crossfire as the other two men shout at each other.

It takes too long for help to appear before the fight gets loud. Words hurl back and forth like knives until Kirk shouts, “I’m not losing you to this insanity!”

And then they’re kissing, Tam’a all but breaking down in Kirk’s arms. Scotty shoos Chekov out the door and keeps an eye on the Commander and thief instead. Tam’a sobs, hanging onto Jim as the only means he has to keep himself upright.

Security and McCoy finally show up.

The doctor administers a hypo to the semi hysterical Vulcan and he collapses against Kirk. It takes two of the security team to carry the man out toward sick bay. Kirk looks as though someone carved his heart from his ribcage. “Commander?” Scotty asks.

Kirk shakes his head and follows the party out of the room.


	8. Further Truths Revealed

**JAMES T. KIRK**

Bones apologizes for the length of time Spock stays unconscious. “I doubled up the dosage based on his biology, Jim. How was I to realize he was only half-Vulcan? He looks Vulcan enough with his elf ears and green blood!”

Jim doesn’t answer, and Bones slumps into a chair next to him. “Aww, hell, kid. I didn’t expect you to go and fall ass over teakettle for him. Are you sure it’s not the bond messin’ around with your brain?”

“It’s not,” Jim says, voice low so as not to disturb his traumatized bond mate. “This is the best thing I’ve ever felt, Bones, so I’d appreciate it if you didn’t make his life more of a living hell for it.”

“Jim. When I came in, he was halfway through a damn rant about joinin’ the Klingons so he could blow up Romulus. I don’t think I need to go into detail on all the ways it’s a bad idea!”

“I didn’t really mean it.”

Jim’s eyes snap to the bed, where Spock looks tiredly back. “Maybe for a minute I did,” Spock says, and reaches out a hand to Jim. “But not to actually go through with it.”

Jim grasps Spock’s fingers and brings them to his mouth for a gentle kiss. “It hit you all at once, didn’t it.”

“Having the right people to blame and knowing why they all died? Yeah. I might have some residual anger issues to deal with.”

“Maybe we could talk about it instead of you leaning toward mass murder next time, though. In front of witnesses.”

Spock offers him a wry grin. “Sorry?”

“Tam’a, how’re you feelin’?” Bones asks, interrupting them. He waves a tricorder at Spock. “Any headache, nausea, other symptoms?”

“I don’t know, let me get up and then I’ll tell you,” Spock replies. He sits up and winces. “Okay, mark down a slight head rush. Wow. What did you hit me with, doc?”

“Enough sedative to take down a full-blooded Vulcan,” Bones replies. “Sorry, kid.”

Jim blinks. Bones only ever calls him ‘kid’. Does this mean he’s warming to Spock? He’s not sure, but at the moment, he’s not taking any chances, either. “Are we free to go, Bones? I promise we won’t keep you up tonight like we did the other night.”

“As if I’d trust your word for it,” Bones grumbles, and then kicks them out of sick bay. “Go on, get outta here. But if I hear any other talk of world domination, I’m siccing security on both your asses!”

Jim keeps their hands linked as he leads Spock out of sick bay and to the turbolift. He doesn’t speak until they’re moving. “We should talk about this,” he says, attempting to be the mature one.

Spock doesn’t reply. Jim says, “I know you don’t want to…”

“Don’t want to? How about I hate the idea that my entire life was destroyed due to territory disputes, and there was nothing I could’ve done about it? Does that sound like something fun to talk about, Jim? Does it?”

Jim wraps his Vulcan up in a hug and doesn’t take it personally when Spock stiffens and ignores the affection. “Spock. It’s not healthy to keep it all bottled up. You’re going to pop at some point and I’d prefer not to have to hire a defense lawyer when it does. I’d rather you rant and yell and rave with me instead.”

“My sister says the same thing to me,” Spock complains. “I’m not an over-sharer.”

“Your sister sounds pretty smart. Was she the hot redhead?”

“Your description leaves much to be desired,” Spock growls, and Jim laughs at him. “Are you trying to drag emotional responses out of me to see if I snap?”

Spock’s outrage is adorable. Jim leads him off the turbolift when it stops and pulls him onto the observation deck. They’re lucky; the deck’s empty except for a few stragglers. Jim says, “May I ask to have the room, please?”

Thankfully, those stragglers are his friends, and all are willing to depart. Once they’re alone, Jim orders, “Talk.”

Spock slumps onto a bench and ignores him, but Jim’s not a quitter. “I can play the silent game with you too, you know.”

“And yet you keep talking.”

“So then don’t talk to me. Meld with me.”

That gets Spock’s attention. “Aren’t you afraid I’m going to turn into a serial killer again?”

Jim shrugs. “If so, I guess I’m on your side. But I’d really rather know what you’re thinking about or planning, and this is the easiest way for you to share it with me without having to put your heart on your sleeve.”

“My head’s a messy place right now,” Spock warns him, before lining his fingers up along Jim’s cheek. “My mind to your mind…”

_Agony, open wounds full of pus and sweat, boiling_   
_Lost boy, no one to tell him why this is happening_   
_Sweet, bloodthirsty retribution_   
_Common sense, compassion pouring through the link, NONONONO Spock, don’t, they’ll take you from me!_

The meld changes the longer it goes on; Jim pours his worry and anguish out to Spock at the idea they would be separated; Spock allows Jim to see that breaking their bond would do him irreparable harm; Jim offers Spock support and affection and trust and Spock responds in kind.

When the meld ends, they are both exhausted, wrapped up in each other’s arms and laying on the floor of the observation deck. “That was intense,” Jim says. “Is it because you’re so compromised by what you feel?”

“Yes, and no. Part of the intensity was the passion you poured into it. The meld goes both ways for us.”

“So you felt my worry? I wanted that to really come across.”

“I felt it.”

Spock rests his head on Jim’s shoulder. “I probably shouldn’t tell you I love you,” Jim says. “It’s probably too soon, or too crazy sounding, but in the last weeks, meeting you has been the answer to every question I’ve ever had.”

“Even though being mine could blow up in your face?”

“Even then.”

Spock curls closer. “It’s too soon and crazy,” he agrees. “But it doesn’t stop me from loving you back.”

Jim smiles helplessly.

**ADMIRAL ALEXANDER MARCUS**

Alexander Marcus takes in the other faces on the other end of the viewscreen. Those people on the other end look like Christopher Pike and James Kirk and Leonard McCoy; he recognizes Nyota Uhura and even the face of his own daughter Carol. He’s heard what they’ve told him, what he canceled meetings to hear; the two hours have passed, and he feels no more certain that he’s not having a nightmare than how he felt when the conversation started. “So you’re telling me that this gentleman is bonded to Commander Kirk and has solved the mystery of the explosion on L’wreth, because the _Romulans_ did it?”

“Admiral, I know it sounds far-fetched,” is how Chris starts, which immediately gives Marcus a migraine. “But Spencer Earhartt has spent years gathering intelligence on his own in order to determine why L’wreth exploded and ended the lives of thousands.”

“I sent you to capture a wanted felon and return the Shield of R’na to Edosia, right? That was the original directive.”

“Yes, Admiral,” Chris replies. “We fulfilled the request of the Edosian people per our discussions with Minister Laa. Laa has already called off the search for Tam’a; while in pursuit of the thief, we met Mr. Earhartt, who shared with us this information.”

“Which you’ve been pursuing on your own.”

“Mr. Scott has assured me that the math backs up the proof we left on Edosia; we have permission to request the necessary platform from the Edosian government for further study. Once this information is confirmed, we should use it to leverage an investigation of the Romulan Empire on behalf of the M’Nay people.”

Marcus pinches the bridge of his nose. “Captain Pike… Chris. How do you think we’re going to leverage this investigation? We waltz into Romulus and do what? We’re on thin ice with the Empire as it is, constantly negotiating and renegotiating the edges of Neutral Space. If we were to accuse them of such an act of violence…”

“Admiral, we have proof of their attack,” Commander Kirk says. “We have both physical evidence and written documentation.”

“It’s enough to start a discussion, Dad,” Carol says, before he can argue the point further. “Mr. Earhartt’s been vital in providing us reliable documentation from the M’Nay, along with steering us toward debris for study.”

“And this Mr. Earhartt just happened to fall from the sky while you passed?” Marcus asks.

“Actually, he was one of the individuals we interviewed while searching for Tam’a,” Chris explains. “We met at a bar, if you can believe it.”

Marcus knows well enough to know when he’s being press-ganged and lied to, and this is one of those times. But he’s missing something crucial, and he can’t call them on it (not even his only child, damn it) until he has more to work with. “Come back to Earth and bring your information with you,” he says. “I’ll contact the Edosians and put in a request for this platform you’re all keen on. Mr. Earhartt, I look forward to making your acquaintance when you’re planetside.”

The tall man in the background of the screen nods his head, says, “Yes, sir,” in his most polite tone. Marcus would bet his last credit chip the manners are all an act. He knows exactly why Chris fought tooth and nail to get both Kirk and Uhura on the _Enterprise_ , and Marcus could sense blood in the water again. 

“You’ll keep me posted. I expect you in a week.”

He disconnects the view screen and picks up his phone. “Nancy, get me Admiral Bartlett on the line as soon as you can. I’ve got a hell of a tale to tell him, and I’d rather do it sooner than later. Also, get me Admiral Barnes. I want to ask him how much room we have for negotiations with Romulus.”

He hangs up and waits for Nancy to do her voodoo and make people appear when needed. He gets Barnes on the line first, says, “I’ve got a potential shit storm to sell you.”

And then gets to work to back up Chris as best he can.

**DREX, OF THE HOUSE OF KRUGE**

The trip to L’wreth had been a vain one. Despite the detailed scans Pheran and his crew had taken, the data had drifted away in the twenty year time frame. It frustrates him to be unable to support his leader and friend. He considers Pheran’s suggestion to go to Vulcan, and thinks that when Lakeer agreed, it would be the most dangerous yet sensible thing they’d ever done.

Lakeer interrupts him from his musing. “And what ails you, cousin, that makes you think so deeply?”

“Apologies, Princess,” he says. “I was considering our trip to Vulcan, and whether or not I should return to engineering to further enhance our shielding.”

Lakeer has always preferred Pheran’s charm and company over his, yet here she is on the _Amanda_ , talking to Hu and Allison. Drex had forgotten that she knew the two humans from her time aboard the ship, when both Tam’a and the girls had saved her life. They sit in the Captain’s front room, among more comfortable furniture. 

Technically, they should be on the bridge, monitoring the progress they make. Drex feels fortunate that some of Pheran’s crew is manning the _Amanda_ for the multi-day trip to Vulcan in his stead. 

Meanwhile, Lakeer waves a hand at him. He suppresses a smile at her very Tam’a-like action, wonders if she even realizes how many ‘human’ characteristics she emotes on a regular basis. “Pheran has taken action to ensure our safety as I ordered before you returned to Kronos,” she says. “For now, I would have you stop pacing, as it detracts from our conversation to have you hovering in such a manner.”

Allison snorts a laugh at his expense and he glares at her. “I apologize, Princess,” he says, and stalks out of the room. He doesn’t go far, only far enough to be out of sight. Manners tell him not to listen, but he’s been in the company of thieves too long; he wants to know what they discuss. He peers around the corner and gapes as he sees Lakeer prop her boots up on a table, slouching in her chair in the same manner Tam’a does. She unbuckles her footwear and pries them off, wiggling her toes with a sigh of relief. “I thought he’d never leave,” she says, and rubs at her temples. “I’ve missed our sister time, my friends. The constant propriety is a nightmare.”

It’s like a flood, the amount of female voices talking at once. Drex watches the very-proper royal princess hug both of his crewmates, and they chatter at light speed. They’re noisier than a targ crashing through the undergrowth of Kronos and he winces.

“I’m telling you, this is the best idea I’ve heard in a long time,” Hu’s voice rises above the others, and he tips his head to listen harder. “Allie and I both talked and talked at Tam’a until we were hoarse, but you know what a stubborn bastard he is.”

“It’s convenient he isn’t here to be contrary,” Lakeer says, slipping into the human vernacular of using contractions and slang. “It’s as though he considers arguing a competition.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. Everything’s a competition with Tam,” Allison retorts. Drex worries for a moment that he’s going to have to stop Lakeer from murdering her and calling her ridiculous until Lakeer tosses her head back and laughs.

“Agreed,” the Princess says. “But I’d bet lithium bars he’s not so argumentative with his new mate, is he?”

“We didn’t get to see them together enough to judge,” Hu says. She frowns. “Which sucks, Kee Kee, because Tam’s boyfriend is hot like burning.”

Lakeer sighs. “It doesn’t surprise me at all. Would my brother choose an ugly mate? Doubtful. They probably look well together, our dark-haired Tam’a and a light-haired mate.”

Drex refuses to think about it, instead preferring to focus on a very lovely dark-skinned Klingon female he’d left on Kronos. He cannot imagine the blond Federation officer to be appealing, but the females in the other room seemed to think otherwise. “I still don’t know if we did the right thing, letting him go with his bonded on a Federation ship.”

“You know Tam’a. He’d have transported himself over with or without your help, sister,” Lakeer replies, patting Allison on the hand. “The Federation has not proven itself to be honorable while we conquest in new worlds, and I would not trust them as themselves. I would trust our brother to know his own mind best in the circumstance. I also know him well enough to think he would have left himself a way out if necessary. What is the phrase – he has ‘tricks up his shirt’?”

“Sleeve,” Hu answers. “Tricks up his sleeve, yeah. But it doesn’t make us worry any less. Even Drex has been moodier, even though he won’t discuss it.”

“Unmated males are too stubborn to show weakness,” Lakeer says. “Only to their mates will they soften.”

Drex growls quietly, hating that Lakeer gives away cultural secrets with such ease to his two human companions. How is he supposed to keep his façade up with them if she continues to brush away his shields? “Well, soft or not, he’s being a stubborn jerk,” Hu continues. “In either case, I think the worry’s doing us all harm. I just want Tam to be safe, without having to overthink each move. And I hope Vulcan is willing to discuss their lost child without taking action or firing upon us at first sight.”

“It is a risk worth taking. When we arrive within two thousand light years, we will uncloak and hail the planet. If we present Tam’a’s case clearly, we may find out some of his history. It would probably be easier to do so without creating cause for war. Though it would’ve been faster to just take the planet as our own.”

“You can’t just swipe planets at random! Honestly, that’s why the Federation gets so pissy when dealing with the Klingon Empire…”

Drex can feel Lakeer’s impatience. “I know. I have mentioned that to Father so many times, but he still believes conquest to be the sign of strength the Empire needs.”

“How’s your dad going to take it when he realizes what you’re doing, by the way? Neither Pheran nor Kadra seemed to take into account that by following your orders, they’d essentially be breaking all of the treaties in place to prevent war.” 

“I won’t allow Father to hold any of them responsible,” Lakeer says, which is a balm to Drex’s heart. “I would not dishonor them so. I have already left word with my servants of what I’ve done, and that if we do not successfully accomplish our plan, they are to tell Father what my decision was and to send help. But I don’t believe it will come to that. If we go to Vulcan and offer them what information we have, and do so honestly, I don’t see why they wouldn’t want to aide us in finding Tam’a’s family. If he has any family remaining.”

“He’s not going to want to go to Vulcan and be an emotionless robot,” Allison says. 

“But he should have the opportunity to know whether or not they exist,” Hu argues. “That way, he can at least make an informed decision! Boys are so dumb.” 

“Agreed.”

Drex allows himself an all-too-human expression of an eye roll. He pushes himself away from the wall and stomps down the gangway. Maybe it’ll be quieter and less frustrating in engineering after all.


	9. It Comes Closer To Bursting

**SPOCK – FORMERLY KNOWN AS TAM’A**

Earth is _awesome_.

As soon as the _Enterprise_ had pulled into the space dock, Jim had talked his way onto the first transport back to the planet. Now, standing between Jim and Uhura, Spock takes in the first glimpses of San Francisco, including the Golden Gate bridge, trolley cars, and, “What is that smell?”

The find themselves in Chinatown eating egg rolls. Spock licks his fingers from the light grease and forces himself to ignore Jim’s arousal slamming into him through their bond. “See something you’d like?” he teases, sucking his thumb.

Jim groans, pulls Spock’s hand into his own and licks. Before Spock can retaliate (or come in his trousers), Uhura shoves them along. “I know you’re not having foreplay in front of me,” she says. “Because that would be tacky.”

“Sorry,” Jim says. “But the finger thing…”

“Don’t care!”

Jim groans again and doesn’t relinquish Spock’s hand. “Come on, troublemaker.”

They walk up and down the streets, eventually leaving Chinatown and taking a hover car to Union Square. Spock boggles at the sheer number of stores around him and hoists his knapsack a little higher up his shoulder. “I’ve been to traders markets in lots of galaxies,” he says, staring up at the large storefronts. “But this is light years away from anything I’ve ever seen before.”

A store window catches his eye and he walks in front of it, glancing inside. It overflows with attire, and he lights up. “You mind if we go in?” he asks, giving Jim a pleading look.

“Honey, there’s nothing in that store you could purchase. I doubt there’s anything in that store the admiralty could purchase,” Uhura says. “Ford’s is one of the premiere clothiers in San Francisco.”

“Wanna bet I can’t afford it?” Spock says with a grin. He bends down and unzips a compartment along the bottom of his rucksack, pulling out half a dozen chips and cards. “What currency does Earth take?” he asks.

“Credits,” Jim responds. “What are you doing?”

He plucks a particular chip from the pile and shoves the rest in his bag. “Come on, you two. We’re going to spend some of my ill-gotten gains. You want to help put a dent in my earnings?”

Uhura raises an eyebrow at him. “Seriously?”

“Well, yeah,” Spock says. “Who better to spoil than my new husband and his gorgeous best friend?”

Both Starfleet officers look tempted by his offer and so he sweetens the pot. “Come on, Nyota. You can’t tell me that you’ve never wanted an unlimited budget before. And to be very, very honest, well… I need to do something to get my mind off of the meeting we have tomorrow. I’ve buried myself in the investigation for our entire trip to Earth, please let me do this?”

Uhura laughs, throws up her hands. “Just don’t tell me where the money’s coming from,” she says. “You’re corrupting me, you know.”

“It’s a skill,” he says. “Let’s go.”

“So what’re we really talking about budget-wise?” Jim asks, when they get inside the store. The blond takes a look at one of the tags on the garments and turns pale. “I don’t think I could even afford the lint on the suits…”

Spock waves a hand at him, heads towards the counter. “Hi,” he says, when a short, skinny man looks up at him. “My friends and I could use your assistance. I’d like a suit fitted for my husband and myself.”

The man – whose name tag reads, “Fritz”, gives Spock a condescending look, taking in his plain black trousers and Henley. “Of course, sir, though I’m sure you’d prefer one of the more mainstream stores down the block?”

Spock grins, loving the ability to smash people’s impressions. “Thanks for the tip, but no, we’re happy here. Perhaps letting you run this chip would make it easier for you to help out?”

He pushes the chip across the counter, and waits. It doesn’t take long for Fritz’s eyes to bug out of his head, and Spock laughs. “So, now, I would bet you work on some sort of budget, where you get a cut of how much your customers spend, right?”

“Yes, sir,” Fritz replies, voice tight. “Of course, sir.”

“Great,” Spock replies. “So, my lady friend could probably use an assistant, and as I said, my husband and I are looking for suits. Now do you think you could get a few people to help us?”

Fritz scurries away like he’s on fire. Uhura taps him on the shoulder. “Exactly how much money do you have?”

“On this chip? Eight million credits.”

Jim and Uhura both gape at him. “On that chip?” Jim echoes. 

Spock shrugs. “You already know what I do for a living,” he says, quietly. “What did you expect? If I had to translate my net worth into credits, I’d say I’m worth about forty million. Why can’t I spend it on both of you if I want? I can’t spend it on Tiger and Allie, they have their own money, and all Drex wants are weapons, which gets hella dull.”

Still no response from Uhura and Jim. Perversely, Spock is pleased that he can render them speechless. “Guys, you’re starting to freak me out here. Say something? Please?”

“Oh my God, Jim, you married your sugar daddy.”

Jim covers his face with his hands while Uhura cackles. “How is this my life?” Jim asks no one in particular. “Okay, so. I’m now a super-rich gold digger. That’s awesome.”

“You can’t be a gold digger if you didn’t know I was rich before you agreed to bond with me,” Spock says, sighing. “It’s not like you were doing my finances when we melded.”

Jim peeks at Spock through his fingers. “That’s… actually true. Oh.”

“Feeling like less of a slut?” Uhura teases, earning a glare from both of them. “Don’t look at me like that, this is hilarious.”

A cough from behind them derails their chat. Fritz has returned with a brightly smiling woman. “This is Jillian,” the man says. “She’s an expert shopper for our women’s line, and she’d be delighted to assist Miss…”

“Call me Uhura,” Uhura says, and the two women flit off. 

Spock turns his attention back to Fritz. “So, my husband and I need new wardrobes,” he says. “A few suits, jeans, comfortable attire as well. Jim would look better in more classic styling, jackets that accentuate his jawline and shoulders and hips. What do you have that would be suitable?”

Fritz leads them deeper into the men’s department and Spock rubs his hands together with glee at the plan to get Jim out of those drab black-and-gold uniforms. “Uh. What was that?” Jim interrupts.

“What?”

“The part where you just turned into a fashion guru,” Jim says. “What the hell.”

“Jim, the biggest part of my job is to look like I blend in wherever I am,” Spock says. “Clothes make the man, as my father taught me. And also? The next time you’re on the _Amanda_ , you’re not allowed to judge my closets.”

“Closets? As in, more than one?” Jim asks, faintly, as Fritz whips out a tape measure and ends their conversation effectively.

**ADMIRAL GRANT BARNES, DIPLOMAT, ENVOY TO THE ROMULAN EMPIRE**

“Coffee!” Grant exclaims, and considers hugging his assistant for a moment. “Marie, you’re a godsend.”

The conference table in front of Grant overflows with PADDs, charts, and documentation. Ever since his conversation with Admiral Marcus a week prior, he’d given up sleeping to meet with his contacts to prepare for the crew of the _Enterprise_. “How long until they arrive?”

“Another fifteen minutes,” Marie replies, the calm within his storm. “Do you need help clearing the table?”

Grant doesn’t shuffle his feet, but it’s a close call. “Please?”

She nods, helps him shuffle his papers so they land in some semblance of order. “If you need anything, sir, I’ll be in your outer office.”

“Thank you.”

Twelve minutes later, Marie announces his guests. He recognizes Admiral Marcus and Carol at once, along with Christopher Pike, but the others are an unknown to him. Especially the tall, dark-haired Vulcan with a… pierced ear? He examines the man, takes in the sharply-tailored black suit, black shirt, and grey tie with metallic threading. Even his black shoes are gleaming, and Grant blurts, “Is that an Urgian Ford suit?”

The Vulcan blows Grant’s mind further as a broad smile stretches across his mouth. “Indeed it is, Admiral,” he says. “I take it you’re a fan?”

Grant glances down at his own uniform and feels a sudden pang of jealousy. “A long-time fan,” he says, unable to stop staring. “I take it you’re Spencer Earhartt.”

“I am,” Earhartt replies, and offers his hand. “I’m told this is a suitable gesture for humans, as long as I warn you first that I’m a touch telepath.”

A blond behind the Vulcan mutters the word, “Illegal,” which Earhartt ignores. Grant shakes the man’s hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. It’s good to see you, Alex, Chris. It’s been a long time.”

The other Admiral nods at him, shakes his hand, along with the _Enterprise_ captain. Pike replies with, “May I also introduce you to my First Officer, James Kirk, and my Communications Officer Nyota Uhura.”

“I’m very glad to meet you both,” Grant says. He gestures to the chairs around the table. “Please, sit down, make yourselves comfortable. Marie will be bringing in coffee and water shortly, unless anyone prefers something else? Tea perhaps, Mr. Earhartt?”

“Call me Spencer, please,” Earhartt replies. “And no, I’m fine with coffee. I can assure you, Admiral, that anything you may hold to traditional Vulcan behaviors, you won’t find here.”

“I’d noticed,” Grant replies, and gestures towards his ear. “Well, consider me open to everything, then. Now then, are you all aware of what my position is in regards to Romulus?”

“I explained that you are our liaison to the Romulan Empire,” Marcus says. “And if there was evidence of any attacks upon members of the Federation, it would be your job to bring said evidence to the Empire and work with them to resolve the issue.”

“That’s essentially correct,” Grant says. “However, due to the sensitive nature of the evidence – namely, that I haven’t seen it yet – I couldn’t do much planning for our meeting today. I’ve talked to most of my sources in order to broach the subject of L’wreth with them, but none have been forthcoming.”

“I’m not surprised,” Pike says. “Until we came across Spencer, we had no idea that anything had occurred on L’wreth beyond a mining accident. Only through his research did we determine there were signs of foul play.”

“What drove you to investigate L’wreth?” Grant asks.

“I had family on the planet at the time it was destroyed, and had heard rumors that it was due to cuts in the building of mineshafts and platforms,” Spencer replies, mouth a thin line. “I focused my efforts on investigating the M’Nay themselves, thinking they’d sabotaged their own planet. It wasn’t until I found further evidence on Edosia that I realized Romulan plasma disruptors had been fired at key infrastructure sites, causing the planet to implode.”

“Other than the evidence on Edosia, do you have any other proof?”

“Most of it is circumstantial,” Uhura says. “Captain Pike and Spencer brought the command crew in the know quickly in their investigative process so that we’d have a better chance of uncovering the facts. The most damaging information comes from one of the mining reports, a communication that goes from one of the M’Nay ministers to a Commander G, origin unknown.”

“We think that could be the Romulan connection,” Kirk adds. “But without support from Starfleet Command, we didn’t have any further information available to us thanks to clearance levels.”

“I’m aware of multiple Romulan Commanders whose names begin with G, which is unfortunate. And I wouldn’t even know which one to start with when I think about the desire to end a civilization. You must understand, the entire treaty with Romulus is an ever-fluid and well-manipulated document – on both sides. The peace we share is tentative; I would hesitate to broach the subject beyond my original inquiry, for no other reason than to keep the status quo.”

“You’re willing to walk away from the murder of thousands to keep the status quo?” Spencer asks, his face blank. Grant can visibly see the Vulcan wrangling his emotions. “You intend to let the Romulan Empire walk away without even a challenge? A slap on the wrist? Anything?”

Grant watches Kirk reach out and dig his fingers into the back of the Vulcan’s neck, rubbing soothing circles on the skin there. He feels his eyes pop, and Kirk sheepishly adds, “Something Admiral Marcus may not have mentioned, Spencer and I bonded on the trip back to Earth. Come to find out, our minds were compatible.”

Grant, after years of watching the Romulans, knows much about how Romulans and Vulcans mate. “You developed a spontaneous t'hy'la bond with each other?” he asks, fascinated. “But that’s amazing! How did you meet each other?”

“In a restaurant,” Spencer says, leaning back into Kirk’s grip. “That’s where I met the command crew, and how I ended up as a guest aboard the _Enterprise_. I certainly had no idea I’d end up married by the time I got here. Admiral Barnes, back on the subject of Romulus…”

Pike cuts the Vulcan off. “What Spencer will say is that we shouldn’t walk away from this without at least filing a complaint with the Romulan Ambassadors. We need to proceed with this investigation for the sake of justice.”

“And will there be justice when Romulus ends the treaty and starts actively going after Federation planets?” Grant asks, gently. He can see the pain etched across the young Vulcan’s face. “I grieve with thee, for those you lost,” he says. “I do, truly. But please see this from my point of view: we have M’Nay, a strong and well-respected member of the Federation, safely managing their planet for the last twenty years. We have a truce, fragile though it may be, with Romulus. And for all intents and purposes, the Romulan Empire would be a most formidable opponent were we to go to war with them. Now let’s consider the Klingon Empire; there’s no telling which side they would choose if we were to stir the pot…”

“They’d choose whatever side I’d…”

Whatever Spencer begins is cut off with coughing fits from both Pike and Kirk. Kirk actually goes so far as to make shushing noises at the Vulcan, who blushes green and halts his comment. “In any case,” Kirk says, jumping into the conversation. “What you’re saying, Admiral, is that by furthering the investigation, we’d be doing more harm than good by today’s standards.”

“That’s correct,” Grant replies. “Please don’t think me heartless to your cause, Spencer. If it were my family, I’d want to hunt the bastards down. But oppositely, you’ve got to think of the thousands – perhaps millions – of lives that would be caught in the crossfire of this crusade. Are their lives worth less, to satisfy your need for vengeance?”

Spencer sits back in his chair, slumps like all his strings are cut at once. “Now I see why you’re a diplomat,” he says.

“It’s not always a job I feel vindicated in,” Grant confesses to the table. “But often, by serving the greater good, I find a sense of peace.”

Before the conversation can continue, the door bursts open. Grant blinks at Marie, who says, “Forgive my intrusion, Admiral. But a call from Vulcan is being patched through to all open channels in an effort to reach Captain Pike. Captain Pike, Elder T’Pau and the Vulcan High Council wish to speak to you. There are Klingons on Vulcan.”


	10. Another One Bites the Dust

**CHRISTOPHER PIKE**

Chris can hardly believe his ears. He looks at Barnes and Marcus, asks, “Admiral Barnes, do you have a view screen…”

But Barnes is already moving, fumbling with equipment behind a closable panel in the wall. A large screen appears and Barnes yanks at the cables until he can press a button and bring up Chris’ call. 

Lo and behold, there are Klingons in the Vulcan High Council chambers. 

But instead of the bloodshed and violence Chris had expected to see, it seems as though they’re all seated at a table with the Vulcan Elders, talking. Chris doesn’t recognize anyone other than T’Pau. It’s Uhura who saves the day, saying, “Elder T’Pau, Dif-tor heh smusma. Amsetri tre.”

T’Pau nods, and in crisp Standard replies, “Peace and long life, Lieutenant Uhura.”

Admiral Marcus is the first to recover from the shock of seeing the Vulcan High Council and several Klingon warriors seated around a table as though they’re ready for tea. Chris looks more closely and realizes that some of those Klingons look disturbingly familiar. “Lady T’Pau, I’m Admiral Alexander Marcus, we’ve not yet had the pleasure of meeting. We are both honored and confused by the circumstances of this call,” Marcus says, politely. “Our initial fear was that Vulcan was under attack.”

“It would not have been logical to search for Captain Pike if we were being attacked, Admiral Marcus,” T’Pau replies. “Our search for the captain was in the desire to find the Vulcan who travels in his company, whom I can see sitting behind your shoulder.”

Chris watches Spock slink down into his seat. “Uh. Hi?” Spock asks more than says.

Everyone winces. T’Pau doesn’t acknowledge the lack of graciousness in the greeting, but continues with, “As you can see, we have been visited by guests from Klingon. It would be beneficial for us to introduce ourselves so that we may speak plainly.”

Chris stands and gestures to each Starfleet Officer in the room, introducing them one at a time. When his gaze lands on Spock, he says, “Lady T’Pau, I believe this is your great-grandson, Spock.”

“Indeed,” she replies. Chris watches Admiral Barnes mouth ‘Spock?’ and shakes his head. He’ll explain later. She continues with, “I present Vulcan Ambassadors V’las, Delvok, and Falor. Our guests include Princess Lakeer, successor to the throne of Kronos, and her Commanders Pheran and Drex.”

“We’re pleased to make your acquaintances,” Barnes says. “Lady T’Pau, how may we assist you?”

“I believe Princess Lakeer may be the key to this discussion. I have been informed that my great grandson is her sworn blood brother, and part of the royal house of Arn.”

All eyes turn to Spock, who ignores them and says, “Hello, sister.”

“You’re an idiot,” the Klingon who must be Lakeer replies. “And as my brother I’m claiming the right to visit our grandmother. She’s brilliant and amazing and you know what’s even better about her?”

“What?”

“She knows where your mother’s currently living.”

Chris watches Spock grab the table, digging gouges into the wood with some degree of alarm. “Sorry?” the Vulcan asks. “What did you say?”

“Your mother is alive,” Lakeer says, and the solemnity of her expression is broken by a heartfelt smile. “We know where to find her and bring her to you, or where you can go to meet her. Did you not think we would help you if you’d just stop being so stubborn and wanting to do it on your own?”

“I. I didn’t. I couldn’t ask that… I don’t. What?”

T’Pau takes control of the conversation once more. “Your mother resides on Denuria. She is a teacher there within a colony of Vulcans and humans alike.”

“She’s alive?”

“Yes,” T’Pau replies. “And while you’ve searched for those who killed your parents, your mother has lived on a planet within Vulcan’s star system. We had not thought you to have been alive before Lieutenant Uhura contacted us to inquire about the circumstances of your perceived death.”

“She’s alive,” Spock says, quietly leaning into Kirk. “She’s… Jim, she’s…”

Kirk circles his arms around Spock’s shoulders. “Just breathe, Spock. We’ll go get her, I promise.”

“May I ask how the Klingon Empire became involved in this search?” Admiral Marcus asks. 

“It is between my brother and I,” Princess Lakeer replies, and gives Marcus a scathing glare. “We broke no treaty with the Federation by searching for Spock’s past on his behalf.”

Marcus holds up both hands. “I meant no offense,” he says. “The circumstances of your involvement made me curious, Princess Lakeer.”

“Play nicely, Kee Kee,” Spock says, and quirks a grin at her. “Remember, I still have to get off Earth in one piece.”

“Fool,” Lakeer replies, but Chris detects the fondness in her tone. “There is much I’ve learned about you, brother mine, that I wish to ask you about soon.”

Spock winces. “Must we? Couldn’t we just leave it as part of the mystery?”

“I’d be happy to blackmail you,” says the warrior known as Pheran. “Remember, I still have those holos…”

Spock groans. “All right! All right. Anything you want to know, I’ll tell you. But not right now!” he adds, as both Klingons look ready to pounce on him. “Perhaps, if my mate and I would be welcome on Kronos, we would be able to catch up at a later date?”

Lakeer puts her hand to her mouth, and after a moment says, “It would be our honor to host you, brother. I would invite any you deem worthy to bring with you. I spoke to Father, and he would invite you and your mother to stay with us as long as you please.”

Chris goes bug-eyed at the implication that the Federation would be able to go to Kronos with Spock; looking at Marcus and Barnes, they’re thinking the same thing. It’s Barnes who says, “Princess Lakeer, we would invite you and your crew to Earth in return for such generosity. I would be honored to work with Starfleet Command to ensure your safety and warm welcome.”

“I have no desire to visit Earth,” the Princess begins, until Spock cuts her off with, “Kee Kee, you’ve never eaten anything until you’ve had egg rolls.”

“Egg rolls?” Chris asks.

“Jim and Uhura took me to Chinatown,” Spock says. “Kee, I’m serious, you’d love it here. There’s a ton of places to go and see and shop and eat. Not even Pheran would be able to eat everything put in front of him.”

“Says the scrawny Vulcan!” the warrior shoots back, and suddenly both Lakeer and Spock are laughing. 

“All right, brother, if you insist.”

“Awesome,” Spock says. “But first, how do I find my mom?”

T’Pau steps back into the conversation, and Chris wonders how the staid Elder could tolerate the overexcited Klingon Princess and lost Vulcan boy talking at warp speed. By her lack of reaction, Chris thinks she must be the least-emotional Vulcan on the planet.

And she’d probably take it as a compliment.

**JAMES T. KIRK**

Once the call disconnects, both Admirals fire off questions, interrupting each other more than once. Spock admits to being S'chn T'gai Spock, so named through Uhura’s research; the story of his adoption by a pilot named Earhartt comes out. The entire _Enterprise_ crew is careful not to mention anything about Spock’s crew, his relationship to the Klingon Empire, or his history as Tam’a. Fortunately both Barnes and Marcus are overwhelmed with the information Spock provides, and fortunately don’t ask in-depth questions about Spock’s checkered past. By the time the admirals release them, it’s late, and Jim’s exhausted. He’s grateful for Pike securing them rooms in Starfleet housing, and he leads Spock towards the one they’ll share for the night.

What scares Jim is that Spock’s not said a word since they left Barnes’ office.

“Spock?”  
Spock looks at him, dark circles ringing his eyes. “Yeah?”

Jim opens the door using the keypad, tugs Spock so that they’re both inside and in some semblance of privacy. “You look exhausted. Would it be better if we went straight to bed?”

“Yeah,” Spock replies. “I’m all over the place right now.”

They undress quietly, and Jim slides into the double bed first, tugging the sheets down and patting the mattress to draw Spock’s attention. Spock joins him on the bed, and curls their bodies together so that his head rests against Jim’s shoulder. “This is so fucked up,” he murmurs, and Jim tightens his arm around Spock’s body. “I don’t know whether to be excited because my mom’s alive, or whether to be pissed at the Federation’s lack of involvement with Romulus.”

“You can be both, you know.”

“But do I even have the right to go after Romulus? My mother’s alive, Jim. She’s out there, and I can see her and touch her again. Amanda Grayson exists, and we’re going to be able to find her.”

“And she’s going to be able to meet you, who’s pretty amazing.”

“You’re just saying that.”

Jim raises his head so he can look Spock in the face. “No, I’m not. You’re the reason we know who was to blame in the first place. You’re the reason Klingons are on Vulcan, waiting for the _Enterprise_ to rendezvous with them so we can find your mother. You’re the reason the Federation might have a chance of visiting the Klingon home world and making a lasting peace. You’re pretty amazing, babe.”

“Not amazing enough to avenge my father’s death, though.”

Jim frowns. “If you hadn’t started looking for reasons, you’d never have come so far to know that there was someone else to blame. I’m not telling you to give up. But maybe for now, focus on your mom’s life, rather than your father’s death? You get to meet a woman you never thought you’d see again. That’s a miracle.”

“What if she doesn’t like me?” Spock mumbles into Jim’s chest. “What if I’m not what she wants?”

“Spock, you’re what anyone would want. Loyal, determined, kind… you’re not jaded by what happened to you and you’ve got a good heart.”

“I’m still a criminal.”

“You don’t have to be if you don’t want to be.” Spock lifts his head and Jim can’t stop himself from kissing Spock’s forehead. Jim continues with, “Look at how well we fit together. You and me, we would be an unbeatable team no matter where we went.”

“But you still want to stay with Starfleet.”

“I could see me finding other avenues. I have some savings too, you know, it’s not like I couldn’t take a few years off.”

A smile tugs at Spock’s mouth. “You and I could damn well retire to wherever we wanted in the universe and we’d be fine.”

“Or maybe I can take a leave of absence from Starfleet, and we can stay on Denuria so you could get to know your mother.”

Spock’s body stiffens in Jim’s arms. “You’d be okay with that?”

“My parents helped shape my whole life and my Dad’s my best friend. Of course I want you to have time to get to know your mother. Hell, Spock, she’s the woman who gave birth to you and you’ve spent your whole life looking to solve her murder!”

Spock yanks back. “Well excuse me for not knowing you’d want to stay planet side, landlocked for any time! I met you in space, remember? I’m not even sure I can stay on a planet for any length of time, I’ve never tried!”

“Then we’ll find out together. Come on, Spock. You’re not allowed to quit on this idea.”

The comment doesn’t sit well with his upset lover. Spock gets out of the bed, paces angrily back and forth around the room. “I’m not quitting. But what if Denuria is boring? What if I suck at staying in one place for long? What if she hates who I became? What if I’m too Vulcan or too human or…”

Jim tackles Spock on his next circuit around the room, knocking Spock to the floor only thanks to the element of surprise. Spock flails but Jim straddles his lap, positioning them nose-to-nose. “Now you listen here,” he says, firmly. “Your mother’s going to love you because you. Are. Freaking. Awesome. I’m sure of it. Okay? Secondly, so what if Denuria’s boring? We stay for a while, we visit, hell – maybe your mom will want to come to space with us. You don’t know! So instead of working yourself into a panic attack about it, I want you to chill out and trust me. You’re better than anything I could’ve asked for in a husband, and your mom’s going to realize you’re better than anything she could’ve asked for in a son. Okay?”

Spock just stares up at him. “You really mean that,” he says, after a minute. “You do…”

“Course I do,” Jim says. “I’m Jim fucking Kirk.”

Spock snorts and wraps his arms around Jim. “It’s like that, huh?”

“Damn straight.”

Jim’s not sure how, but Spock flips them neatly so that the Vulcan’s hips are caught in the cradle of Jim’s thighs. “Fucking Kirk?”

“Or fucked Kirk,” Jim says, grinning, as Spock rubs his erection into the cleft of Jim’s ass. “Come on, Spock. Give it to me.”

The rip of Jim’s underwear can probably be heard through the walls, but Jim doesn’t have it in him to give a damn.

**T’PAU, VULCAN ELDER**

T’Pau knows, logically, that her great-grandchild has been raised off-world, has not had the teachings of Surak ingrained in his psyche, and relied more on his human ancestry then his Vulcan heritage.

It still startles her when, upon his arrival, the first thing he does is to physically pick up Lakeer, spin her around, and press a loud, smacking kiss to her mouth. “Kee Kee!” he says, euphoric, while the Princess shouts at him about decorum. “I’m so glad to see you!”

Lakeer swats at him until he returns her feet to the sand, and then wraps her arms around him firmly. “I missed you too,” she says. And then, when a blond human approaches the pair, she says, “You must be James Kirk, correct?”

“Yes, your highness,” the human replies, politely.

Lakeer waves this off, hugs the human as well. “I am glad to meet you, bond mate to my blood brother. If you dare hurt him, I will remove your worthless head from your neck once I’ve castrated you. Do we understand each other?”

T’Pau watches the blond man cringe and go pale. “Positively get each other, your highness.”

“You will then call me Lakeer, as we are family,” she says, and it’s then when T’Pau takes pity on the human and interrupts them.

“S'chn T'gai Spock,” she intones. “Son of Sarek, blood of my blood.”

Spock pulls away from his mate and his Klingon sibling, offers a Ta'al to T’Pau. In Vulcan, he says, “Lady T’Pau. Live long and prosper.”

She returns the gesture and offers him the traditional response; she notices his Vulcan is shaky at best and makes note to rectify the imprecise language in the future. “You are welcome here, grandson,” she offers. “Though I know it will be most logical for you to leave for Denuria at once, now that you have rejoined Princes Lakeer and her crew.”

“We’re his crew, actually,” corrects a young, Asiatic human. “Lady T’Pau, we are most grateful for you allowing us to utilize Vulcan as a meeting ground for all parties.”

“As a Federation planet, it did not seem prudent to turn away those who come with a curious and peaceful agenda,” T’Pau replies, and finally other _Enterprise_ members arrive. She does not allow her interest in the meeting of the species to show, but otherwise finds it fascinating that the Federation humans, Klingons, and Spock seem to regard each other with wary acceptance.

“Oh come on,” Spock protests. “You’re all my damn family, stop staring at each other like it’s going to be an arms race at any minute.”

“Prudence,” Lakeer growls at him. “I am still not comfortable with the Federation, now knowing that they are not further along in chasing down those Romulans responsible for your pain and suffering.”

“How do you even know about that?” Spock protests. “I didn’t tell you that!”

“Uhura did,” Lakeer says, and offers a traditional Klingon greeting to the dark-skinned human as she approaches the group. “Uhura is a formidable ally; I understand why you associate with her, as I understand why you chose Allie and Tiger.”

“No! No, no, no, you all are not allowed to make friends. No galaxy will ever be safe again,” Spock replies, and looks somewhat horrified. T’Pau raises an eyebrow when his voice cracks. “Jim, oh my god, we’ve caused the apocalypse by letting them intermingle.”

None of the females approve of this comment; she watches her grandson do his best to backpedal and ultimately fail. As Captain Pike attempts to intervene, she clears her throat. “Perhaps it is best not to intrude in situations you have less than a 1.8 percent chance of redeeming.”

Pike’s mouth snaps shut with an audible click and T’Pau inclines her head. “It was dedicated of you to offer assistance, but illogical.”

“You realize he may not survive this,” Pike says to her, still cautiously polite.

“If my great-grandson can escape from a prison on Mahonin and rescue Klingon royalty from Imperial anarchists, then I predict he will extract himself from this conversation relatively unscathed.”

Pike flinches. “So you figured out he’s Tam’a, I take it.”

“A professional thief with a Vulcan alias? It is not such a far stretch, Captain. He is unorthodox, for a Vulcan. I believe we will be overlooking many things in order to grant him the citizenship he deserves.”

“We’ve become quite attached to him as well, Lady T’Pau.”

“I see that,” she replies. She watches the large gathering of non-Vulcans in front of her, each bringing something unique to the conversation, and yet all of them intently focused on the health and well-being of her offspring. She feels something close to pride. “He is, in that way, his father’s son; I was unable to dissuade Sarek from choosing to break his childhood bond and selecting a human mate. And yet, when Sarek perished on L’wreth, it was a human who took his seat in my house. Amanda was not what I expected. I am pleased to see her son, fully grown.”

A slap; a howl; T’Pau’s conversation is cut off while she witnesses her grandson earning a stinging blow from none other than Lakeer. “Or mostly grown,” she amends, and swallows a sigh. “It will be fascinating to see how he changes from this point onward.”

“Ever the scientist, Lady T’Pau?”

Pike looks guileless but she detects the slight hint of teasing. It is something she is far too used to from Amanda. But, as with Amanda, she does not indulge. “Indeed.”

When his face falls, she turns away so he will not see the humor in her eyes. She continues watching the mock-argument between her grandson, the Klingons, the _Enterprise_ crew, and her grandson’s crew. Scientist or no, they are a most fascinating cultural group to study. T’Pau looks forward to opportunities in the future to see them again.


	11. In the End, It’s Just Another Beginning

**S'CHN T'GAI SPOCK**

He stands on the back deck of their house, staring out over the water that’s abundant on Denuria. The waves crash into the sand and he cups his hands over his eyes to watch the figure come closer, stalking up their private beach. He is once again glad to have as much money as he has, if for no other reason to indulge his lover’s desire to have daily swims and live on the water’s edge.

But after all it is, in fact, the end.

The end of an era; the end of his search. The Romulans are still out there, but they will have to wait. They will wait while he reclaims all of the moments of his life that they stole. They will wait and he will live his life to spite every single one of them. And one day, he will put it behind him. 

Every day with Jim makes it one day easier to deal with. He will mourn his father, but he will steal every precious moment he can in every other way.

Jim has taken that leave of absence and spends his days surfing or exploring Denuria with Spock; the crew of the _Amanda_ has comfortably merged with the _Enterprise_ , his human sisters finding homes amongst Starfleet’s best and brightest. Drex has returned to Kronos, where Spock and Jim had spent most of a month celebrating their bonding. (And yes, Lakeer had been insufferably smug, her father as generous as ever, and Kadra had eventually dragged Jim away to show him those damn holos.)

In return, the Klingon royal house had visited Earth. Earth was still standing. Sort of. The less he thinks about it, the better. Pike may still never forgive him for the incident in Chinatown.

But, as Jim is so fond of saying: win-win.

“Hey, what’re you staring at?”

Spock grins at his husband of thirteen point six months, loving the way the board shorts hang low on Jim’s hips. “I’m looking at someone I want to get naked with.”

Jim grins. “Yeah, well, we’ve got about forty-five minutes before our company shows up, so you’d better make it fast.”

They make it just by the skin of their teeth.

Spock’s out of the shower and almost dressed with their door chime announces a visitor, and he’s elated, excited. He hopes the feeling will never go away, knowing that Sunday brunch will always make his heart beat out of his chest. He presses his mouth to Jim’s and goes for the door. He smells the strata in the oven as he moves through the kitchen, sees the ‘what-passes-for-orange-juice’ in the carafe that Jim always forgets to bring to the table. He grins at his own helplessly fond adoration of his bondmate, and when he flings the door open, the smile increases tenfold.

“Hi Mom,” he says, and wraps himself up in her hug.

Life is good.

 

 

 

~Fin~


End file.
